


No Memory is Gonna Save you Now

by whelphereweare



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Team as Family, Temporary Amnesia, i just threw the canon noodles at the wall and picked what stuck, my long winded insanity in written form, sappy as shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26058097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whelphereweare/pseuds/whelphereweare
Summary: While out on patrol, Peter loses most of his memories. Through the kindness of strangers, his friends, and his family, he learns exactly what those closest to him mean to him.(I've written pretty much the whole thing and WILL NOT leave this incomplete)
Relationships: (both vague and brief), (brielfy), James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, May Parker (Spider-Man)/Natasha Romanov, Michelle Jones/Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Spider-man/Ironman
Comments: 84
Kudos: 212





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I.....tried? It's starker as endgame. Don't like, don't read!

He wakes up to dark green and sodium light and pain. 

Sitting up, he groans and tries to sort out his limbs. The legs get folded under because they’re annoyed no matter what it seems. The spine gets hunched around the aching ribs and generally unhappy organs. One arm, the left one, is doing all the leveraging while the right one seems to be the only thing properly screaming. The neck is rolled while the head is dropped to inspect the screaming arm. 

He groans as he finds that the right arm is much more sticky-red than the other is as only the fingers on his left are coated in it. Gingerly, he rolls the sleeve back and finds - 

A list.

_ Tower _

_ Loby _

_ Fri _

_ Lab _

_ Tony _

Idly, he thinks,  _ lists are written on your skin, not carved in, right?,  _ and _ I’m pretty sure I put that there based on the blood. _

“Oh, by my lucky stars, it’s you!” 

His lungs are working double time, his heart quadruple, while his ribs twinge and his stomach rolls, whole body buzzing with  _ something _ . 

Also he seems to have become well acquainted with a tree. 

“Oi, love, you’re alright? I didn’t mean to frighten you so bad.” 

Without much thought, his hands let go and his body unfurls while his feet hold him in place on the branch. He comes face to face, though the wrong way up, with a lovely girl, curly brown hair, shining blue eyes, and a frown. No, wait, smile if he was on the ground. She giggles as she flaps one hand, the other holding a plastic cup and squeals, “I can’t believe I’m meeting Spider-man! Heather’s never gonna believe me!” 

“Whose Spider-man?” he hears someone ask. 

But, no, not quite hear, because it was also feel, and not just the vibration but the movement of the words-

_ I said that. _

**_That’s_ ** _ what I sound like?! _

He hits the ground with a thud and a flare of pain while she snorts and laughs near involuntarily. With another groan, though this one is mixed with a chuckle, he gets up. Sorts his limbs enough to lift himself from the ground, right way up this time. He’s taller than her, broader too, but she is excited and happy and practically bouncing where she stands. 

"I know you probably get this alot but could we get a picture together?" she asks and she looks so bouncy that he doesn’t have the heart to ask her  _ why would you want a picture with me _ ? Instead he smiles, nods, and chuckles in a way he hopes doesn’t sound as awkward as he feels. They bend close as the girl taps the screen into giving her the front facing camera. Then they’re posing and she says “Smile!” and he sees himself for the first time. 

The large white lenses are a little startling, but the red, blue, and black, the detail of webbing and the obvious care taken to make the whole thing look like a second skin, comforts him in a way he wouldn’t know how to express. The suit, what it represents, is important and  _ good _ and makes him feel like he can do just about anything. 

The girl grins down at the photo, humming happily and swaying a little. He comes to realize that she’s been glassy-eyed and floaty the whole time and maybe, “Are you drunk?” 

She fixes him with a pout while she rolls her eyes and replies, “It’s not like I’m smashed, mate, just tipsy.” 

“Um.” he replies as he shuffles his feet a bit. 

He knows he should find this ‘Tower’ place. It’s the first thing on a list that is carved into his arm and since he doesn’t seem to remember his face or his name (at least what this person thinks is his name) the list that’s carved into his arm seems like a good place to start. 

But....he can’t just leave her here in the dark and the trees and tipsy (possibly drunk). 

She looks up from her phone to take note of his pensive stance before she seems to roll her eyes with her entire being. 

She sighs loudly as she turns and says, “Well, I suppose I should be glad that chivalry isn’t completely dead.” while walking into the night. 

With little hesitation, he follows. 

She chats idly as she follows a map on her phone and he learns that she’s an exchange student (from the UK) in college, misses her girlfriend (Heather) terribly, and is finding New York less and less confusing by the day (when sober). There’s a shriek and a groan to their left and he is too proud of himself for doing more than jump and gasp a little. 

“Where the  _ hell _ have you been Millie! We thought you were dead!” comes quickly and sharply from a guy in a crop top and spiked heels, while a girl in a floral button up and stompy boots rolls her eyes and drawls, “She coulda killed any junky who’d’a jumped ‘er.” 

He smiles at this and hangs back while the girl, Millie, throws her arms around the two with a strong laugh and says, “Oh, my loves, did I worry you? I never knew you cared!” The guy shrugs her off with a smirk and a huff while the girl catches Millie and pulls her in a little tighter than is probably strictly necessary. “And look!” Millie says with a wave in his direction, “I had a knight in shining armor to escort me back!” 

Her two friends turn to look at him as he sheepishly waves back and says, “H-hey.” Her two friends also want pictures and while the guy thanks him profusely, the girl gives him a purposeful nod and he tries hard not to disappoint. Eventually though, seeing them all safe in each other’s hands, he figures he better be going. 

“Back to Queens?” the girl, River, asks with a raised eyebrow. He rubs at the back of his neck with his left, less mangled arm and says, “No, ah, I’m actually heading to a - uh -a ‘Tower’ but I’m not, well, exactly sure where it is.” 

They all blink at him a bit before Millie burst into giggles saying, “‘A’ Tower. A-avenger’s  _ ha _ !  _ Love _ , this is  _ precisely _ why my Heather loves you!” Her friends seem to catch on because the guy, Michael starts laughing with Millie while River just sorts and rolls her eyes. He simply stands there and laughs a bit with them because, well, laughing is nice. And, apparently, he likes it when people laugh at his jokes, even the unintentioned ones. Who knew?  _ I sure didn’t _ . 

Before his laugh goes hysterical, he stuffs it down and says that yes, he really does need directions. Yes, his suit is very fancy but it seems to be having some issues. Yes,  _ of course _ , that’s how he got hurt. And, no, he  _ does not _ spend too much time in Queens he’s just a little turned around here, thank you very much. 

They give him directions and wave him off, seeming generally none the wiser that he has no idea where Queens even  _ is _ , much less why he’s associated with it so readily.  _ Maybe it’s another city _ , he thinks,  _ since this one is what Millie called New York _ . 

The walk is long and dark in patches while others are brightly lit. Sometimes there are people and sometimes there’s not but it is never, ever silent. He can hear things from what he thinks must be quite far away, as sometimes he turns a corner expecting someone talking or a car reving or a bird cooing only to be surprised that it’s not right there but much, much further down or simply not there at all. It’s disconcerting, but not as weird as his feet. Sometime’s, as if they have a mind of their own, his feet will stick to the sidewalk and refuse to let go. Eventually he realizes that he’s the one doing it, somehow! And since, it seems, that sticking is easier than not-sticking, he finds a box that doesn't look terrible, rips off two pieces, sticks his feet to them, and tries not to think about how he’s  _ decently sure humans don’t do that _ . 

He keeps walking. 

Eventually he turns a corner and realizes River’s sarcastic addendum of, ‘you can’t miss iet’ was true. It’s  _ giant _ , oddly shaped, and has a huge ‘A’ on it ( _ oh! ‘A’ Tower! Ha, I get it now! _ ). Looking at the list again he starts to think, O _ k so, Tower, done. Now ‘Loby’ probably means the lobby of the Tower but does ‘Fri’ mean friday? Does this mean I need to be there on friday or before then? Maybe I have an appointment? Wait, what day is it anyway!? _

Needless to say, he was panicking a little. 

But, regardless, he didn’t really seem to have anywhere else to go, no other direction but this one. 

So, to the ‘Loby’ it is. 

Inside is just as intimidating as the outside. There are metal detectors and barriers but past those is a large desk with a single security officer on their phone. Everything is made of metal, glass, or white, polished rock of some kind. Marble, maybe? 

He adds ‘not an interior designer’ to his List of Things he Knows Now. 

He wanders forward, hesitantly, as the guard stands. 

But before the guard can tell him anything, “Hello, Spider-Man. Boss is waiting in the lab for you.” as the elevator doors to the right side of the large desk open to an empty car. 

The disembodied voice is female, almost lyrical, and  _ incredibly _ unnerving. Though, it would seem, not to the security guard, as he simply waved, smiled, and sat back down at the desk. As he debated whether or not he should listen to the voice in the walls one of the metal detectors lights up green and he figures there probably isn’t much arguing with the voice anyway. 

So he walks through the detector and as he passes the desk he pauses and asks, “Hey, man, uh, could you tell me what day it is?” 

The man looks truly confused but answers, “Thursday, sir.” all the same. 

He grins then switches to a thumbs up when he remembers the mask and chirps, “Thanks!” before getting into the elevator. The doors close and the car starts to rise. 

“Um, hello?” 

“Yes, Peter?” 

“I - ” he starts confused but then waves away that line of questioning.  _ Later _ , he thinks,  _ there’s a list to sort through and the ceiling-lady could be wrong _ . “So you mentioned ‘lab’ earlier and I was hoping maybe you could tell me if I’m supposed to be there on friday or not?” 

There’s a slight pause then, “You do have lab time schedule with the Boss at noon -” 

“Ok then I should just come back then could you bring me back d-” 

“No, Boss wants to see you ASAP.” 

“No, but -!” 

“I can’t disobey -” 

“No, stop! Stop the car! I - !” 

The elevator lurches to a stop and he crushes the hand rail in his frantic scrambling to stay upright. “I have a list! In my arm!” He half yells out as he pulls the sleeve up at the camera in the corner of the ceiling. “It says: Tower, Loby, Fri, Lab, Tony, and Tony is underlined, in case you can’t see it. So I think Tower means this building, Loby means the lobby of the building, and Fri must mean friday and if you say I have an appointment -!” 

“I’m F.R.I.D.A.Y.” 

He’s stunned for a moment then, “What?” 

“My name is F.R.I.D.A.Y., Female Replacement Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth.” 

He blinks, blinks again, then “That is a really  _ weird _ name.” 

She almost sounds smug when she says, “Blame Boss, he’s the one that named me.” 

That gets him grinning. He likes ceiling lady. Add that to the List of Things. Well, Friday, not ceiling lady.

Whatever. 

“Ok… I guess that counts? So, you’re bringing me to the lab?” 

“If you let me move the elevator I can bring you to Boss’s lab right now.” 

“Heh,” he huffs embarrassed, “yeah, no, that’s good. To the lab is good.” 

The elevator begins to move again and he tries desperately to contain his excited bouncing. He got a good feeling about this Tony person. The name is underlined on his arm, an already painful task made even more painful just to get a point across.

Hopefully, he won’t be mad about the hand rail he crushed.

“Hey, Friday? Is this ‘Boss’ guy going to be in the lab you’re taking me to?” 

“Yes, Boss is in his lab right now. He’s been looking for you since earlier this evening.” 

The car comes to a stop and the doors slide open, so he steps out and looks around. It’s a long, drab hallway with only a few doors, all slidey and reinforced with metal. 

_ Did I accidently wander into a prison? _

“Boss muted me,” Friday says with an air of annoyance, “so I can’t announce you but I’ll open the door.” 

A door slides open, sniffling and whirring drifting out into the hall. Paired with the hiccuping breaths and the annoyed huffs, it’s obvious that someone is crying or at least extremely frustrated. 

_ Another thing to add to the List of Things _ , he thinks as he walks toward the doors with a lot less hesitation,  _ incapable of not helping people _ . 

He gets to the door to find a sad and sorry sight, though the lab itself looks amazing. There are tools and machines and projects on the tables, the floors, the walls, even hung from the ceiling! It seems to range from complex mechanics to advanced biochemical and he wants to sink his teeth into everything without ever coming up for air. 

The only thing that stops him is the gorgeous man and adorable arm robot. 

The robot is obviously trying to comfort the man, whirring as it rolls back and forth with a glass in its hand. The man is someone to be concerned over, though. Besides the fact that he’s the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen (not that he’s seen all that much), the man seems to be very upset. There are holograms projecting charts, video, and raw data of all kinds displayed around him in a somewhat haphazard way. But he’s sat, hunched over, trying and failing to collect himself as he bats the concerned robot away. 

“Um, hi?” 

The man runs a quick hand roughly over his face as he sits up, squared-shoulders and stern frown, as he booms, “What the hell a-!” and stops. The man’s eyes go wide and his jaw drops but he doesn’t move any further than that. 

“I, uh -” he starts, stops from nerves and second-guessed thoughts, then continues as the man continues to gape, “Ms. -um- Friday let me up. She said that her boss wanted to see me and I’m actually looking for - well, it’s kinda-  _ Gah _ !” The man is faster than he looks because he’s across the room and throwing his arms around him before he can really think to stop him. He hugs back mostly to make sure he doesn’t get bowled over but the beautiful man.

“ _ Never _ scare me like that again, Peter!  _ Lovelace _ , I have  _ heart problems _ ! You can’t just disappear off the face of the  _ universe _ like that!” the man says, loud and angry but there’s a tremble in his words and in his arms that speak to how worried he was. 

But he can’t focus on that, as he’s held tight and squished close by the man, because, “Is that my name? Peter?” The man pulls back, gripping his - Peter’s, it would seem - shoulders but holding him out to gape at his face. 

“Wh - I - yes, of course your name is Peter. You should know that, why don’t you know that?” The man whirls away, back to his holos to swipe them all away and bring up loads of new ones. Peter stands there, a little confused. He takes the lab in a little more, itches to get into a project but he still doesn’t feel like he has permission to do so. 

Peter refocuses on the man instead and decides to say, “Friday is annoyed you muted her.” 

The man’s head whirls back up to him, first confused, then it all seems to click before, “Unmute, baby girl. I’m sorry about that, really.” 

“It’s ok, Boss.” Friday responds immediately, sounding content and maybe a little fond around the edges. 

“So you’re ‘Boss’?” Peter asks as the gorgeous guy goes back to his frantic work. 

“Yeah, I’m in charge here. My lab, my rules.” the man replies distractedly. With what Peter reads as a clear dismissal, he goes poking around. 

_ Besides _ , he thinks as he starts to wander,  _ now, Friday will say something if I’m doing something truly stupid, right? _

It’s an unknown amount of minutes before he’s interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. His immediate response is not to see who it is, though. It’s one thousand percent to jump up on the work table he’s in front of and land in a defensive position, facing the hand that was touching him. It turns out it’s just ‘Boss’  _ (I should really ask his name. Or maybe just what I call him. _ ). 

“You ok there, Pete?” the man asks, part amused, part concerned. Peter feels himself blush but tries not to get too concerned over it, since he’s still wearing a mask. 

“Y-yeah, sorry, uh, didn’t mean to do that. Heh.” Peter stutters out. 

The gorgeous guy smiles a little fondly up at Peter then asks, “Need a hand?” as he holds a hand up to him. Smiling, Peter takes the hand gratefully and hops down. “Peter, where did you get the cardboard from?” Peter looks up only to find the man looking down, so he follows his gaze to the cardboard he’d had on his feet until five seconds ago. 

Peter smiles sheepishly at the other man and says, “Yeah, ah, I kept sticking to the ground so I just stuck them on my feet? I can kind of, um control the sticking but I’m not very good yet.” The other man is giving him such a complicated look that Peter decides to try and change the subject. “So, um, wh- ah, well, ok - what’s your name? I’m sorry I should probably know this, too, but I don’t. I don’t really remember -” 

“Anything.” the other man finishes with a grimace. 

Peter shrinks in on himself further, not sure why but hoping desperately that he hadn’t disappointed the other man. “I talked to Strange. He said he took all of your memories and put it into this.” the man says as he holds up an I.D. card between two fingers. Peter takes it, glances at the picture but quickly focuses on the name underneath. 

Peter Parker. 

“He didn’t have time to separate everything out so he just….took everything.” he continues on with a flap of his hand, whirling around to key something else up. The holos flicker on around his head as the man asks, “Baby girl, scan Pete’s brain. Full front to back, anything we can do. And shut his modulator off, that thing sounds wrong when you talk.” There’s a beep from his suit and -  _ maybe that’s why I sound so weird _ . 

“On it, Boss.” Friday chirps as the holos begin to flash on around him. The man seems to be complaining about someone or something when something else catches Peter’s eye. He grabs the holo, adjusting it around so he can read it. He expands and manipulates it in a way that feels natural to him so he tries not to think too hard about it as he starts to see - no, that can’t - 

“I’m part spider?!” Peter’s voice startles himself just as much as the other man, stopping mid rant, buried in holos, to look over at Peter with an incredulous look on his face. 

“I tell you a wizard took all your memories to keep a hive mind of aliens from scrambling your brain and  _ that’s _ the thing that you’re focusing on?” 

“That explains the sticking, I guess. And the get-up.” Peter murmurs as he continues flicking through what must be his own lab results over the years, ignoring the man’s question just as his own had been ignored. “I wonder, does that explain - ha!” 

Peter pulls up a video labeled ‘strength eval.’ 

It starts with the gorgeous man explaining to a younger guy (a lab tech maybe?) how much different weights are and how he intends to combine them on to one, reinforced, barbell. The whole thing looks like gym equipment got swallowed by a forklift and even more hydraulics, but if they’re testing superhuman strength, it would make sense that the superhuman would need something more than a normal human’s gym equipment to lift and spot them. 

He expects that the video may cut to someone else, someone more….familiar to him but, instead, the person Peter assumed was a lab tech lays out on the weight lifting bench. It clicks, just then, as the gorgeous man on the video starts telling the younger guy to be careful and don’t push himself and  _ this is just to get a baseline so no _ \- 

_ That’s me _ , Peter thinks. 

Peter sees what must be himself go through several variations of weights until they’re all piled on the bar and the guy, himself, in the video, is laughing a little as he lifts it like it's  _ nothing _ . “Ok put the 10 ton weight down, we’re done.” says the gorgeous man in the video, sounding half-way disbelieving. 

“But I can lift more, let's try -” 

“Pete, we don’t  _ have _ more. I thought 10 tons was  _ over kill _ !” and then the two dissolve into laughter and the video ends. 

Peter looks over at the man, who’s looking right back, face serious but a little lost all at once. 

“You really don’t remember anything do you?” 

Shaking his head, Peter glances around, finds a stool to collapse on, then does just that. 

He rolls his sleeve up again, turns his arm to show the man as he says, “This is all I had when I woke up. I didn’t know where or who I was, just…. that everything hurt. Especially this arm. When I looked at it…. I found the list.” Placing it back in his own lap, Peter stares at the skin, healed too much to be anything but accelerated. He chuckles, “I ran into this girl. Apparently her girlfriend is a big fan of Spider-Man. Or...me, I guess. I - I thought maybe she’d got me confused with someone else but then, when I asked where a ‘Tower’ might be, they pointed me here. Then, when I got here, in the lobby, Friday knew me and had me come to the lab. I thought m-maybe, whoever ‘Tony’ is, that they’d be here. I thought that they’d fix this because -” 

Peter cuts himself off with another chuckle, wetter this time, “I know this sounds stupid but it’s  _ underlined _ .” He looks up at the man, who’s walked a little closer to him with a face that says he may be in just as much pain as Peter is. “That’s gotta mean something. Right?” 

They are silent for a moment, as the man inspects Peter’s arm with reverence and fear swirling in his eyes. 

“Yeah, underoos, it does.” the man finally replies as he puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder, something shifting in his posture, on his face, in his head. 

“I - My name is Tony Stark. As far as I know, I’m the only Tony you know.” He’s got a fond smirk on his face, eyes shining with determination now as he holds out his hand and continues, saying, “And you’re right it does mean something.” 

Peter takes and shakes Tony Stark's hand, a little mechanically. But his smirk is infectious and he feels himself smile, faintly. “It means I’m going to fix this. And I promise I won’t stop until I do.” And Peter, to Tony’s credit, feels better about this whole situation than he can ever remember feeling. 

It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Also, now being cross-posted to Tumblr :)

As it turns out, and much to Peter’s amusement, Tony may have overestimated his ability to ‘fix this’. 

The situation is stressful, sure. It took Tony showing him half a dozen videos of the two of them, relaxed, in and out of the suits they wear before Peter would be convinced to hand the suit he was wearing over to Tony. It takes Peter even more time to trust Tony to sift through the wires and code on his own, at Tony’s insistence to get cleaned up and have a damn nap already,  _ your jaw is clicking when you yawn _ . 

But Peter trusted him. Not all at once, but after too many questions and Tony showing all the patience in the world it was hard not to. 

Besides, Tony’s name was written  _ in his arm _ . 

_ Underlined _ . 

And Peter was still choosing to believe that meant a hell of a lot. 

So when Peter wakes up, still clutching the I.D. card, wrapped in a blanket and borrowed clothes, with no more memories than when he fell asleep, he looks around for Tony. And he can’t be blamed that he finds the sight of the genius arguing with a man in a red cape that’s twitching like it’s alive amusing. 

They’re going back and forth about time constraints, spell ingredients, and “ - he’s saved your ass before, Strange! You can’t just \- ” 

“Talking about me while I’m asleep. Super classy of you guys.” Peter says as he sits up on the old couch in the lab, shoving the I.D. card into a pocket. Strange, The Asshole Wizard (as Tony has called him many times now) sighs in what sounds like relief and says something to Peter. He’s not too focused on what because the red cape has  _ floated off his shoulders and is coming for him _ ! 

Peter manages a squawk before it wraps around his middle in what he comes to realize is a hug….? He pats the bit of cape that’s over his chest and it ripples happily under his hand. 

“Y-you’re alive?!” he exclaims as the cape ripples around him a little more. Peter starts to giggle as the cape seems to be enjoying the petting and attention. After a point it starts to move him around and before long it sweeps Peter off his feet and tosses him like he just jumped off a trampoline. Peter shrieks, half delight half fear, as he’s launched toward the ceiling, the other two men shout as well. He reaches the apex of his toss at just the right height to calmly reach out and stick himself to the ceiling with all of his limbs. He laughs a little more as he arches to look over and down to see - 

“How the hell are you doing that!? That’s so cool!” 

A portal had opened just underneath him, Strange seemed to be holding it open while Tony had his arms out as if to catch him. The cape floating between them, twitching this way and that. Tony looked like he couldn’t decide between amused and annoyed, and honestly either would be a good look on him. 

Peter grinned and it seemed to tip the other man to begrudgingly amused.  _ I’ll take it _ . 

“Let go, Pete. I’ll catch you.” 

Peter snorts because if he’s learned anything about his abilities in the hours before he fell asleep it’s that he could get down off the ceiling by himself, with or without the portal. 

But, he lets go without much of a thought, passing through the portal and landing in Tony’s arms, bridal style. 

As much as he’s learned about his own abilities, he’s also learned a decent amount about Tony and the amount of pure  _ caring _ he’s got packed into himself for others. Or at least for Peter and his own creations. As soon as Peter is through, Strange lets the portal fizzle out. 

“I thought you said he didn’t have control of his powers.” Strange says, sounding smug. Peter expects Tony to have some sort of snappy comeback but when it doesn’t come immediately, he pulls his eyes from the fizzled out portal, face pulling out of the goofy grin and into something more concerned, to look up and over at Tony. Tony’s looking at Peter already, stunned and shocked at best, something deeper twisting in his eyes. Tony’s grip tightens on him minutely and it clicks. 

_ Possessiveness _ . 

Peter doesn’t have time to react to his revelation before, “I’m sorry, should I come back?” 

Tony and Peter’s heads whip around like they’ve been caught doing something far worse than staring at each other. Tony clears his throat while Peter blushes and both scramble to get Peter’s feet on the ground. 

“So, ah,” Peter stutters out, shaking himself mentally to get back to the issue at hand, “You guys were talking about my memories?” This seemed to reboot Tony completely as he looks sharply back at Strange and Strange’s smug amusement falls to generally disheartened and vaguely annoyed. 

“Yes, we were.” Strange replies, “As I was trying to explain to Stark, I can’t just put your memories back. It’s a process. And it’s going to take even more time to put them back because we were so quick with removing them to begin with.” 

Peter feels his eyebrows draw together and before he can really think it through, he asks, “Why were you rushing the first time?” Strange looks dubious while Tony just glares at him but both, somehow, look guilty. 

“You got kidnapped by aliens that are part of a hive mind that are trying to take over this planet. They’re highly advanced, technologically, but not magically. When you dropped off the map and Stark couldn’t find you, he called me.” 

Peter blinks at him once, twice, because  _ how _ \- “How did you just say all of that with a straight face?” he asks, completely at a loss. 

Strange rolls his eyes with a muttered, “Always a damn comedian.” while Tony snorts and says, “Good one, Pete.” Peter just blinks at the two of them. That seems to make them realize he’s not joking. 

“I explained all of this to you last night!” 

“I thought you were being dramatic! Or, just, like, making things up so I’d pay attention!” 

“I mean, that doesn’t sound far from your usual, Stark.” 

“I  _ swear _ , Tinkerbell - ” 

“Guys!” Peter half shouts to get his voice above their bickering, grin growing as he looks between the two men and the floating cape. “Magic is  _ real _ !” and now he’s really grinning like a lunatic, “That’s  _ fascinating _ !” 

Tony has a fond, confused smile crawling up his face while Strange just rolls his eyes and mutters with a slight smirk. 

They discuss things a little longer, determining that they will have to at least wait until the alien threat is gone before they attempt to put Peter’s memories back. Strange is called away while they discuss the details of the ritual, which leaves Tony and Peter with more questions than answers, really. 

“He’s always so damn  _ cryptic _ .” Tony mutters as he heads back to his project. 

But that’s before the banshee in Peter’s stomach decides to growl. 

Peter smiles sheepishly while Tony turns back around to raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Baby girl, what time is it?” 

“11:34 am, sir.” 

“With your metabolism, you must be starving.” Tony mutters as he saves his holos and shuts it all down with a few waves. Then Tony claps, rubbing his hands together on the way to the door and says, “To the kitchen!” with Peter trailing behind him. 

Peter tries to protest a little, managing to at least delay things mildly when he asks if he should be carrying around his memories in an I.D. card in his pocket. Tony just takes it from him, striding to one end of the lab, open a fucking secret panel in the floor that has five kinds of crazy locks before it opens up with a dull thud and a grunt on Tony’s part. Once the card is placed inside, Tony just strides back, grabbing his arm gently as he walks by, guiding him firmly out of the lab. 

He’s determined to feed Peter it seems. 

So Peter just keeps his mild panic to himself. 

Because Peter isn’t stupid he knows that, in a place this big, they’re likely to run into someone. And if they’re going to their usual haunts, then they’re much more likely to run into someone they know. The lab seemed like a place that was just for him and Tony (and the bots). Who knows if ‘the kitchen’ is a communal space or private. And this line of thinking just raises more questions for Peter. 

Because he doesn’t know  _ anything _ . 

He doesn’t know what building this is other than the ‘Tower’. He doesn’t know if people live here, if this is a business place, or where literally anything is. There is apparently a lobby, a lab, and a kitchen and this, really is as far as he’s gotten. They’re on their way to find food and he doesn’t even know what he  _ likes _ , for Newton’s sake! 

What if he has a food allergy? What if he manages to harm himself and he doesn’t know if he has any allergies to medication? Oh, nononono, what if he has pets and doesn’t feed them? What if they  _ die _ and - ? 

“Are you coming? Or are you going to just…..stand in the elevator all day?” Tony asks, snapping Peter out of his internal existential spiral. 

“Do I have pets?!” Peter asks, a little frantic, wild eyed as he stares at Tony. 

He blinks once or twice then, “No? But we can go to your room after this, if you want? I mean, I don’t think you have a living pet but you make robots at random and, knowing you, you’ve adopted a rock and feed it, like, love twice a day or something.” Rolling his eyes fondly, Tony grabs Peter’s arm lightly and starts towing him out of the elevator, saying, “Come on, you’re not getting out of food.” 

For some reason, this makes Peter relax a bit. 

Peter lets himself be towed down a hall and through a living room with couches and a large tv and into a well stocked, modern kitchen. Tony drops his arm as he passes the stools tucked into an island and rounds, making a beeline for the fridge. Peter takes the hint and sits on a stool as Tony turns back towards him with a calculating look on his face. 

“If I ask you what you like to eat, would you know the answer?” It seems like an overly round-about way of asking if he even remembers what foods he likes but Peter shakes his head, frowning in response to his realization. 

Tony’s face softens though and with a flap of a hand he says, “Don’t worry. I know what you like. Sweet or savory?” 

Peter feels his face scrunch a little, then replies, “Savory?” 

“Got it.” Tony fires off with a grin before he’s on the move again. A green apple is soon tossed his way, a moment later a jar of peanut butter, too. He notes that it’s labeled with his name before a knife is placed on the counter in front of him. “Usually you just slap the peanut butter on the apple and bite into it all together.” 

The face Peter pulls must betray his confusion and mild disgust because Tony laughs as he pulls the peanut butter jar from Peter’s hand lightly. “I know how it sounds but usually when you’re hungry,” he starts as he works the lid of the jar then tilting the opening toward Peter’s face, “you get impatient.” Peter gets one whiff of the peanut butter and his stomach growls loudly as his mouth starts salivating. Shocked, Peter looks up at Tony, wide-eyed, as the other man grins at him, happy to have gotten Peter so right. 

He gently takes the jar from Tony, blinking down into the contents and wondering for the millionth time just how well this man might know him. Tony nods to himself, happy, like he’s ticking off something on a to-do list, then turns around to the fridge. 

He’s going about the kitchen, taking things out and settling into some sort of rhythm all his own so….Peter just watches. He contemplates offering his help once or twice as he makes his way through half the apple and a third of the jar but he never feels like he needs to. Like he’s expected to. It’s the first time he’s sat and just….existed since he woke up under those trees and it’s both oddly forgein and terribly comforting. 

He slathers on more peanut butter and munches more of his apple and tries his best to just, be. 

It doesn’t last long, sadly. 

A man walks in with too many muscles, long hair flung wildly around his face,  _ and a metal arm in his hand _ . The man grunts in his direction before he turns to Tony, dropping the metal arm on the counter in front of Peter. Tony and the man start talking but, honestly, Peter couldn’t care less what they’re saying because the arm in front of him is  _ beautiful _ . 

His hands are running all over it before he really ever gave himself permission or thought to ask for anyone else’s. The design is a thing of wonder but it’s heavier than he feels an arm maybe should be. He’s got about three ways to improve the weight as he articulates the limb only to find that there’s a snag in the elbow. There’s a memory in his hands as he checks over the plates of the arm, feels vaguely like he’s done this all before somehow. There’s no visual, techni-colored memory to pull up as a reference but he knows, in his fingers and his wrists, the way to twist the arm around, the way plates are supposed to shift, and where the access panels are. 

He’s got it open as easy as breathing and he’s got his hands on the issue in nothing flat. Pulling out the flat, floppy magnet with a content noise and a smile, seems to be what breaks Peter out of his mechanical-sleuthing trance. He drops the wrist onto the counter with a loud clang, causing the long haired man to look over at him sharply from where he was busy making what looks to be coffee. 

“You good, Queens?” Peter hears the man ask as he continues to stare at the arm, trying to figure out, understand somehow, that his fingers knew more than he did for a little while there. 

“Did you find something weird in it?” the man asks and Peter jumps. The man is standing at his side and he doesn’t remember hearing the guy move. The guy takes the magnet that’s still in Peter’s hand, inspects it quickly, before he seems to relax a little and almost, maybe does something with his lips that could be construed as a smile. 

If you squint. 

“Clint.” the man states, fond annoyance bleeding into his tone. He ruffles Peter’s hair which turns into some sort of shoulder squeeze. Then he leans over, taps all the panels closed, picks the arm up, and jams it  _ holy mother of - _ ! 

**_It’s the guy’s own fucking arm_ ** , Peter thinks in complete and utter horror and fascination. 

The guy wiggles the fingers around, bends the elbow, rotates the shoulder then smiles, properly this time.

He picks up his mug, waves at Peter and Tony vaguely, with a “Thanks, kid.” thrown over his shoulder before he’s gone again. 

Peter’s still gaping a little at where the guy disappeared out of. He’s probably been gaping for an inordinate amount of time when there is a hand (flesh and blood,  _ because that’s a note we have to make now _ ) wiggled in his face. 

Peter blinks once or twice to pull the hand into focus and, after a moment or two, sees that the hand is attached to Tony. 

A confused Tony. 

“Why didn’t you tell Elsa you lost your memories? Did you recognize him or something?” Tony asks and Peter just gapes. 

Tony’s about to add something when, “His name is  _ Elsa _ ?” 

Peter has a feeling that the incredulity is what startles the rawkus laughter out of Tony, but he supposes he can’t be sure.  _ Further testing will definitely be needed _ , he thinks as he feels his lips curl into a grin at the warm, happy sound. 

Tony takes a little while to get a hold of himself before he manages, “I guess he’s not familiar then.” He smirks at Peter, laughter still in his eyes as he explains, “His name is Bucky. He’s got a metal arm and you fix it for him when it breaks, most of the time.” Peter makes a thoughtful noise as Tony continues chopping things and mulls the new information over. 

“Is he like a brother or more like good friends or something?” Peter asks. He figures it’s an innocent enough question and that it would fit with the man’s, Bucky’s, actions. He’d ruffled his hair, squeezed his shoulder, deposited his beautiful, malfunctioning, cybernetic arm for Peter to fix (and drool over). Peter figures that’s the kind of thing you do with someone you know and trust. 

Fixing someone’s arm is a big deal. But then being an arm down around someone is a vulnerable position as well. 

With this thought Peter adds, “You must mean something to him too, right?” 

There’s no immediate response so Peter looks back over at Tony only to find that the man is just staring at him with his kitchen knife half way through an onion. Peter frowns and asks, “Are you alright?” which seems to shake Tony out of whatever trance he’s ended up in. 

“Yeah, no, ah -” he coughs a bit then goes back to chopping as he continues, “We’re fine, mostly. But you’re pretty right. About you guys. He trusts you, you’re pretty good friends. He’s on the team, sorta. It’s similar to how you’re on the team sorta.” 

“How many superheroes are there? Do they all live here, too?” Tony chuckles at that but seems to relax a little more with the broader topic. Peter tries to remember to maybe avoid Bucky as a topic in front of Tony until his memories are back in his head. 

“Not all the hero's live here but there’s a decent amount who do. Want me to tell you a little about everyone?” 

Peter grins, “Please?” 

And Tony tells him. 

Tony tells him about how the first time Peter meant Captain America in the suit, he had stolen the shield from him and earned the nickname ‘Queens’ and how, after a long fight, everyone got their shit together and talked like adults. 

He told him about how the first time he met Natasha in the lab, out of his suit as Tony’s intern, she had narrowed her eyes at Peter, then Tony, then back at Peter and said, calm as anything, “If you hurt him I’ll kill you.” and walked out. Tony says it took him nearly two weeks to convince Peter to go back to the lab after that. 

He laughs through an explanation of the ‘severe fanboying’ Peter had done when he had met Bruce the first time and how happy Bruce was to science with Peter after he had gotten a feel for him. And he smiles fondly through the story of Spider-man meeting Hulk for the first time and becoming fast friends through junk food and play wrestling. 

By the time Tony is finishing up with the food Peter feels like he’s gotten to know the people he apparently lives with a bit better. Tony’s eyebrows draw together at some thought before he’s quickly adding in, “In case you were worried, anyone who has access to these floors knows your identity. And Friday’s programmed to warn you and make it harder for people to get to you if you’re in the suit but don’t have the mask on. You’re also my ‘intern’ and you live here so if you say you’re Peter Parker and that you live here, no one’s gonna think you’re Spider-Man just because of that.” 

Peter...honestly hadn’t thought about it too much. 

But - “Does that really happen all that often?” 

Tony snorts, actually snorts, at Peter’s look of confusion and replies, “To you, Pete? Too often.” Tony’s still chuckling to himself as he plates up the food he cooked which turns out to be spaghetti. 

_ Scratch that _ , Peter thinks as he takes his first bite,  _ he made heaven in a food! _

Peter feels a happy noise crawl out of his throat around his mouthful before he starts trying to scarf it down as quickly as possible. 

“Woah, kid. Breath a little, please. There are several people that would kill me if you die from food inhalation.” 

Peter manages to swallow all the food in his mouth before he’s quipping back, “If they tasted this they would  _ understand _ ! How do you cook like this, it’s amazing!” 

Tony just waves him off saying, “It’s not that great, kid. You’re just starving from a high metabolism and currently have no memory of what a hot meal is.” Peter would have continued his uphill battle but in walked….someone who likely lived here as he was a man in sweatpants, an over large tshirt, and an exceptional case of bed head. 

“Hey,” Peter says at the guy, who looks up with a very confused look on his face, “tell Tony that his spaghetti is amazing.” 

The guy blinks, then blinks again, then, “There’s spaghetti?” 

His voice was gruff and very confused, but Peter being himself replies, “Tony just made some.” 

The guy grins like a puppy with a tennis ball and mumbles, “Tony s’ghetti.” before he shuffles to the stove to serve himself. Peter gives Tony a smug look that Tony just rolls his eyes at. But drinking from his glass of water doesn’t quite cover his blush. 

_ Huh _ . 

Before Peter has much time to think about the blush on Tony’s face or what that might mean, another person walks into the kitchen. 

“Hey! No class today, Peter?” Tony curses, scabbling off the stool he’s on before he’s running out of the kitchen. 

Peter blinks at where he’s disappeared out of but tries not to worry too much. 

Tony’s a) an adult who can likely take care of himself but also b) a seemingly chaotic person at best. Peter figures if something was terribly wrong Tony would tell him, or Friday would. 

Peter looks back over at the new person, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do now. 

He looks similar to the man now standing with a bowl of spaghetti and downing a separate bowl of coffee. They both have blue eyes, broad shoulders, and an inordinate amount of height. Both also have short, blonde, messy hair, though the man that's just looking at him in confusion seems to be sweaty and damp, unlike the sleep ruffled look of the other guy. 

"Do you know what that was about?" the sweaty guy asks, nodding toward the hall Tony had disappeared down. 

Peter just shrugs at him and keeps eating his food, hoping he won't be questioned further. What was he supposed to say anyway?  _ Nah, I have no idea what just happened but I've been confused since 3am when I fell out of a tree and some girl called me Spider-Man so I may not be the right guy to ask. _

Yeah that would go over,  **_swimmingly_ ** . 

After eating (i.e. practically inhaling) the rest of his food, Peter puts all his dishes in the sink and grabs Tony’s bowl from the counter. 

He’s about to ask Friday where Tony went so he can bring him his food when sweaty guy pipes up, “Did you have a rough patrol last night?” 

Peter half turns back to him, reluctance probably too clear in his posture, and just nods and sort of mumbles something vaguely affirmative sounding. 

He’s about to book it out of there when a deep sigh sounds like it’s pulled from the guy’s chest as he continues, “Look, Peter, I know we’re not on great terms but if you’re having a hard time please talk to someone? Maybe Nat? If we get called into the field and -” 

“Yeah! I’ll, uh, talk to Nat. I’m. Just, um. Gonna bring this to Tony really quick, sorry. Bye!” Peter manages to stutter out before he’s running down the hall and into the closest available elevator before anyone else has the time to stop him. 

_ Well, that could’ve gone worse _ , he thinks to himself as he directs Friday to take him to Tony. 

The thought rings a little hollow though, as he really has no idea how it could’ve gone worse than if someone had tried to physically fight him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think please!? 
> 
> Also come yell at me on Tumblr! (I'd love to make friends) :D 
> 
> weforgotthatwearethestars


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3, here we go.
> 
> (Cross-posted on Tumblr)

He gets to the lab without getting lost only to find that Tony seems to be pretty lost in some project again. Peter thinks about calling out and breaking his concentration but that seems like a waste. The man is a genius and he probably didn’t want to have to hold Peter’s hand through all of this. 

So Peter creeps up to Tony and places the bowl gently and within reach of Tony. He waits for a moment or two, making sure the other man didn’t knock to bowl down or something. Surprisingly, it wasn’t long before Tony picked up the bowl and started eating from it absently. 

Peter smiles at the complete focus the other man has on his work, something warm curling in his guts before he slips away and out of the lab. He figure this out himself, no need to bother Tony. 

Once out of the lab he gets back in the elevator and asks, “Hey, Friday?” 

“Yes, Peter.” 

“Can you give me directions to...wherever I live in here?” 

“Of course. This elevator will take you to and opens up directly to your apartment.” 

“Wha- I have an  _ apartment _ ?” 

“Yes, you do.” 

He could’ve sworn she sounded pleased. 

It takes no time at all for the elevator to deposit him into an open plan, spacious living/dining/kitchen area. All the things that are part of the apartment, like the walls, floors, furniture, and appliances, are in shades of black, white, and every grey in between. 

The stuff, though, his stuff it must be, is what seems to stick out in the grayscale. There’s posters and pictures on the walls, some framed and some taped. There’s dishes stacked around, cups and plates and bowls on any surface and usually next to books and papers, pens and pencils. It’s an organized chaos that makes the almost sterile foundations of the place seem more like a home. 

There’s a hall he can’t see down and a view of the city so high up in makes his heart flutter. 

Feels almost like he’s flying or falling or both, just for a second. 

He feels stuck to the floor just inside the apartment from the elevator doors and says, “Friday?” It feels wrong to be asking for her even though he’s been doing that all day. 

“Yes, Peter?” 

“Do I, uh, do I live here alone? Like, who’s all the people on the walls?” Friday almost seems to pause before she responds, “I can answer your questions but due to the current circumstances, I would like to inform you that you usually speak to Karen when you are in your apartment.” 

“Whose Karen?!” 

“Hi, Peter. How are you doing?” 

Peter does not shriek at the second, female, very kind, voice. 

He doesn’t. 

It’s definitely a manly shout. 

“I’m sorry, Peter. Are you currently experiencing sensory overload?” this new voice asks at a very, very low volume. 

“No,” Peter answers just as quietly and twice as shakey, “ I don’t, um, think I am.” Then he adds quickly, dread pooling in his guts, worry lacing his voice, “Are you?” 

There is another pause similar to Friday’s earlier one, before, “Friday has informed me that you have lost all of your memories.” Karen responds, working her volume up to normal speaking levels and loosening the tension in Peter’s guts. “I am an AI, like Friday, who was created by Mr. Tony Stark for you. I was made mainly for your suit but you’ve requested that I be linked to your apartment, as Friday is linked to the Tower.” 

Peter frowns a little at that before he asks, “Then why didn’t you help me last night?” 

“Your suit was wiped of all data and programming last night at 10:56pm,” Karen says, sounding almost remorseful and if  _ that _ doesn’t make Peter feel bad - “including myself.” - that does. 

“I’m really sorry about that.” Peter says, hoping he has time to make a note at some point on something he owns to do something nice for Karen. He doesn’t know, right now, what you’re supposed to do when the AI built for you by a genius you live with, for some reason, takes a hit, sorta, while you’re out doing your superhero thing, but he’s hoping that he’ll know once his memories are back. 

“It’s ok, Peter. Earlier you asked Friday if you live here alone and who the people on the walls are. Would you like me to answer those questions?” 

“Yeah,” Peter says with a smile at the almost content note in her voice, “I’d like that, thank you.” 

“No problem, Peter.” she chirps back before she goes on to explain his own apartment to him.  _ Thank Lovelace for helpful AI’s programmed into the walls _ , Peter thinks wryly before moving around to different pictures as directed. 

Turns out Peter lives, as far as the apartment goes, alone. But, just like Tony said, loads of people live in the Tower. Including some of the people Peter has hung up on his wall. He puts faces to names Tony told him and to new names that Tony didn’t. Karen doesn’t tell him stories but she tells him who he’s fought beside, complained about, and worried over. 

There are also people that don’t live in the Tower and are not superheros and it’s kind of a relief to know that he has a life outside of saving people. 

And getting kidnapped. 

After they finish with the pictures in the living area, Karen directs him to the other rooms. There's two guest rooms that look mostly untouched by the home-y feel of the previous rooms, a bedroom that he’s informed is his own, and a lab at the end. The bedroom has more pictures and knick knacks than he feels truly capable of tackling but the bed is like a cloud and the sheets are soft and warm. 

He also finds his own clothes but when he thinks about changing out of Tony’s clothes, about giving them back, it has him frowning in front of his choices and putting the whole thing off. He tries not to think too hard about what that might mean. 

Wandering into the lab, the thoughts are replaced with wonder almost immediately. 

_ A love for biology and chemistry _ , Peter thinks,  _ add that to The List _ . 

Tony’s lab had been massive and disorganized and  _ filled _ with almost anything a physicists or engineer could ever want. This lab is smaller, the size of one and a half of his bedroom, maybe. And it was filled with chemicals and plants and equipment that indicated anything from advanced biomechanical experiments to chemical engineering. He pokes through the notes that are in several different places, left on different lab tables. 

He picks up a stirring rod and asks Karen questions as he walks up to each plant. Can I poke it, am I supposed to touch it, what am I testing, what’s its  _ name _ ? She answers anything she can and pulls up several videos of Peter’s experiments from over the years. 

Watching them, he learns a lot about himself. 

He learns that he's kinda smart and kinda funny. He makes jokes and references then laughs to himself afterwards, carrying a conversation with himself out loud all the while. He has an entire watering, feeding, and lighting system set up with so many back ups and fail safes and timers that it's hard to even understand them all at some point. He's impressed by the sheer thoughtfulness, bordering on paranoia. Different spouts turn on, lights go on and off with a variety of colors all while wafts of fertilizer come and go while he sits in the lab watching videos and asking Karen questions. 

He also finds half assembled metal body parts, which isn't a sentence he woke up this morning imagining he'd think. There are no less than three hands and too many ankles to think about. None are as complex as the arm that Bucky had handed him earlier but none are as heavy either. Karen informs him that he's working on making cybernetic limbs to help amputees and it makes him swell with pride at himself to know that he's working on something like that. 

The best find, though, rolls out from behind a potted plant on a higher shelf. 

At first, it's the irregular beeping that alerts him to something different, something  _ new _ , in the ecosystem of the lab. Sure, loads of things had beeped and clicked and twacked but nothing quite like this. Nothing that made him sit up and look around, listening with full focus. It came again and he realized it was to his right. Again, and he realized it was above his head instead of below or at eye level. Scanning the shelves at the presumably correct height didn’t turn anything up except for more flowers and he was debating going to find a stool or something when the little thing rolled into view. 

It was the most adorable thing Peter had ever seen, memories or not. 

They trilled and whirred as they peaked out from behind one of the pots, their tracks squeaking just a little on the shelf as they turned. Their eyes were the same color and glow as the arc reactor in Tony’s suits but looked like mini binoculars as they flapped and zoomed in on him. The neck and hands looked like they were inspired by Dum-E, just scaled down for the little guy. They were all affixed to a box as the main body and painted completely in whites and greys. 

“Hey, little guy.” Peter says taking a small step closer to the little ‘bot, “Who are you?” They tilt their little binocular eyes right, then left, then right again, before emitting the happily little whirrly clicks, as they clap their little grabber claw hands together. Before Peter can do much more than giggle, though, the thing is changing, shifting almost. The tracks pop out and swivel up and away from the main body as a blue glow starts to show from the tracks. Then they’re - 

“You  _ float _ !” Peter squawks out, just before the noodle arms extend at him and the little ‘bot jumps and floats down as he wraps Peter’s neck in they’re extendo limbs. Peter holds the little thing as it lands in his arms and nuzzles it’s little binocular head into his chest. 

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Peter whispers as he stares in awe at the little ‘bot in his arms. They trill happily at the comment and Peter can’t help but laugh, breathlessly happy with the implication that he had a hand in this cute little baby’s existence. 

This is, of course, when there was a knock on the door. 

Another manly shout, much to Peter’s annoyance. 

The bot clicking out a snicker and clapping its grabby claws together, tickling Peter’s neck. 

“I know you’re in there,  ребенок паук. I will come in.” 

At the casual threat from the person on the other side, the little ‘bot lets out something like squealing speakers and grinding gears as their noodle arms unravel themselves from his neck so fast they drop for a second before their hovering kicks back in. 

_ No, it’s little repulsors! _ Peter realizes with a start as the poor thing scrambles behind a pot, barely peeking through the leaves of the small bush, blue eyes shining eerily in the dim of the shelf. Peter is still standing there, blinking, as another knock sounds. 

“Karen, who’s here? And why isn’t the apartment locked?” Peter asks in a whisper. 

“Ms. Natasha is here. The apartment is locked but you have permission for her as well as several others to enter without needing to ask you first. Would you like to change that?” Karen responds in the same quiet volume. 

Peter smacks his forehead, annoyed at himself for not thinking about that sooner, “Yes. Please. Um, anyone can leave but no one can get in without my explicit permission. Except -” He nibbles his lip a little at his own thoughts of,  _ maybe that’s too much, maybe I shouldn’t - oh, fuck it _ , “Except Tony. He can come in whenever, too.” 

Peter doesn’t quite catch Karen’s response as his heart starts beating a staccato out in his chest as he settles his hand over the biometrics scanner, the door sliding open with a barely audible hiss. Leaning against the wall, directly across from his lab’s door, is a woman who looks to have made herself completely at home in his hallway. Her short, red hair brushes her shoulder lightly as she tilts her head to side slightly, her lip curling into a small smile. 

“Giving up pretty easy, this time. Want to talk now or do I need to kick it out of you?” 

Peter's eyes widen and he worriedly responds, "Please don't fight me?! I didn't even do anything!" 

She's confused. He's not sure how he knows that, something about the pinch to the corners of her eyes or the slightest raise of one eyebrow to the other. 

Her face is so blank, though, that he wonders if he's maybe making those signs up. 

"Steve said you were quiet at lunch." she states, no room for denial. He can feel her gaze like needles in the back of his neck and he knows, in his bones, that she's trying to decide if he's a threat. And based on the casual threats of violence and the powerful way she holds herself, he'd bet that a threat is a bad thing to be to her. 

Her eyes narrow and with that one slight movement, every alarm in his head goes off. 

"Explain." she demands, even less room now to deflect. A very, very bad thing, indeed. 

"Ok, look, I don't know if I'm supposed to tell people or not. But! I-I lost my memories last night. Well, not lost, the wizard put them in an I.D. card. So that the hive mind aliens couldn’t take them. Or scramble my brain.” He can feel the desperation bleed onto his face as he, “You’re just gonna kill me, aren’t you.” 

Her face is cold and unreadable as the silence stretches on and her eyes bore into him. 

Peter’s pretty much accepted the fact that she’s going to kill him with her mind when, “Friday?” she asks. 

“I can confirm that Dr. Strange put all of Peter’s memories into his obsolete Stark Industries I.D. badge, last night, while in the lab with Mr. Stark. He did this while Peter was kidnapped by an alien race that Dr. Strange is trying to keep from going to war with Earth. They are technologically advanced but have no knowledge of magic. The aliens were going to try to extract Peter’s memories and use this knowledge against the Avengers in the war they wanted to begin. Dr. Strange extracted them first, though he claims it was Peter’s idea, since there was no hope of physical rescue before the procedure would be performed on him.” 

Her face softens a little and Peter feels less like he may immediately die. 

“How did you get out?” she asks, reaching out to start running her hands along Peter’s shoulders, arms, ribs. 

“Uh, I don’t know? I, I woke up on the ground with s-some trees. And a drunk girl called me Spider-Man.” 

She lifts an eyebrow at him as she pulls away from her clinical pat down and responds, “Karen didn’t tell you when you woke up?” 

“No, she got zapped or something. The whole suit was pretty fried when I got back.” Peter says, a sheepish note to his voice. 

“Then how did you get back here?”

He lifts his sleeve for her, saying, “I have a list in - oh. I guess it healed.” Her eyes seem to spark at this so Peter hurriedly adds, “But, uh! Friday probably has the video! Right, Fri?” 

“The image of the list on your arm last night has been pulled up on the tv in the living area.” replies Friday, promptly. 

Tentatively, they walk to the living area and Natasha spots the picture on the tv and just, stops. 

It’s kinda bad with the blood smeared all over his arms and hands and the letters standing out in dark red against pale skin. 

She wrenches her eyes away from the screen and murmurs “Turn it off, Friday.” as she grabs for Peter’s sleeve to shove it up, over the elbow, and gently inspects the smooth, pale skin underneath. Peter is a little stunned by the tender touch before he remembers Tony telling him that Natasha had kind of taken him under her wing after she had threatened his life.  _ Guess it’s a pattern for her _ , Peter thinks, a little deliriously. 

She lets out a small huff as the tension seems to release from her shoulders minutely. “So, you found Tony and he explained everything to you?” Peter just nods in response. “Alright, then.” she says, as she rolls his sleeve back down, almost delicately. She catches his wrist once she fixes his sleeve and reals him into a tight hug that Peter freezes in, just for a moment, before wholeheartedly returning it.

For the first time since she showed up, he well and truly relaxes, even letting out a small chuckle. 

Who knew terrifying superheros were huggy? 

She pulls back and Peter lets her place her hands on his shoulders. Squeezing just a little, with a smirk quirking her lips, she says, “Let’s introduce you to everyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love feed back. Feel free to leave kudos, comment, or even DM me on Tumblr: weforgotthatwearethestars. I'd love to chat about just about anything 😊


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-posted to Tumblr.

Walking into what Natasha called the common room was nerve racking. 

It was the room with the big couch off of the kitchen and there were currently the two blonde dudes from earlier, Bucky with the  _ fantastic _ arm, and a man with glasses and fluffy, dark hair reading a book. 

“Nat I didn’t mean for -” the sweaty (formerly sweating? he looked like he’d showered) blonde guy from earlier starts before cutting himself off at the raise of Natasha’s hand. 

“Peter,” Natasha says, “This is Clint, Bucky, Bruce, and Steve. Though you usually call Bruce, Dr. Banner and Steve, Cap or Mr. Rogers.” She says as she gestures in turn to the sleepy guy from this morning, Bucky, the guy that was reading his book, and the formerly sweaty guy. Natasha then turns to the confused men and continues, “Peter lost all of his memories because he was kidnapped last night on patrol and the easiest way to make him too much trouble to keep around was to take all of his memories and put them in an I.D. card, at least according to Steven and Tony late last night.” 

Everyone looks shocked for a moment before Clint speaks up, “So, wait, you don’t know who anyone is?” Peter glances at everyone’s face, hunching in on himself at the sadness he sees in their eyes. He shrugs and nods a little, hating himself for not remembering them when  _ this _ was the reaction he was getting for forgetting them. 

Then Bucky starts to chuckle and everyone looks at him. 

“You fixed my arm this morning.” he says with a smirk, statement, no question about it. 

Peter feels himself blush and decides to just nod in agreement anyway. “Well,” Bucky responds, grinning away, “then there’s plenty of you left in your head. Besides, we aren’t all that interesting anyway.” 

Peter looks up at Bucky with a little bit of a dazed grin and responds, “I wouldn’t say you guys are boring, sir.” That somehow gets a chuckle out of Steve while Bucky shakes his head and gets close enough to Peter to reach out and ruffle his hair up. 

“First off,  _ no _ . You call me Bucky, I trained all those sir’s out of you  _ months _ ago.” 

Peter squirms away from Bucky’s hand with a squawk and a laugh and, “Alright, alright! Bucky, got it.” They grin at each other and as Peter glances around the room he finds that everyone is more relaxed and looking a little fond and happy. 

“Secondly,” Bucky says as his hand comes down to clap Peter’s shoulder, “if you don’t remember us then we should probably do one of Stevie’s team building things, right guys?” Bucky is grinning at Clint and now Clint is grinning back, a little manic around the edges. 

“Yes! Fun with the new guy!” he cackles maniacally while Peter looks over to the others, a little worried. 

“Ok, no, lets maybe just have a movie or game night tonight.” Steve interjects, “We can maybe spar with Peter tomorrow, if he’s feeling up to it, but we are not throwing him into the deep end for no reason.” Peter doesn’t have time to contemplate that sentence before Steve is turning to him with a smile, “How about it, Pete?” 

The smile creeps across his face as Clint boo’s the change in plans and Bucky huffs at Steve, but they’re both still smiling like the evening is going to be a blast. Natasha and Dr. Banner even look a little happy with the plans. 

He has a brief moment of wanting Tony there, one familiar face in this sea of unfamiliarity, but he shakes it off.  _ He’s probably busy, don’t bother the man with your crap _ , Peter thinks before he nods in agreement to Steve’s suggestion. 

“I’ll get dinner sorted.” Natasha says as she walks off just as Clint shows up next to Peter, slinging an arm around his shoulder. 

“Alright, it’s either watch Star Wars or play a Smash tournament. Your choice.” he says with a grin so big Peter has to grin back, “You’re gonna love either one, I promise.”

***

Peter is cheering on Bucky who is racing against Clint and Steve in Mario Kart when he hears Natasha and Tony’s voices down the hall, just exiting the elevator. He doesn’t think much beyond  _ foodTonyhappy _ before he’s vaulting over the back of the couch he’s sitting on and running into the hall. 

“Tony! You came for game night?!” half-way launching himself at the man in question. Peter had figured out that most of the team/people-that-lived-here were pretty touchy based on the amount of hair ruffles, shoulder squeezes, and random tackling he had experienced in the past couple hours. He probably looked like a mess between the rumpled clothes and the bird's nest on his head but he was feeling relaxed and just really happy. Tony looks confused but pleased to have Peter plastered to his side in a half hug as he’s holding a couple bags of food in the other hand. 

“Hey, kid.” Tony breathes out as Natasha raises an eyebrow at them. Peter ducks his head a little sheepishly and holds his hand out as he untangles himself from Tony’s side and asks, 

“Sorry, want some help?” She nods and hands him half the bags she’s carrying before fixing Tony with a look Peter’s not sure he wants to get in the middle of. Instead, he figures, if the others are around that means witnesses and then she probably wouldn’t kill Tony right? 

“Hey, guys! Food’s her- !” Peter starts but cuts himself off as he walks in and everyone is staring at him. He’s not sure how to react because while Clint looks like a kid on Christmas who just spotted Santa, Bucky looks torn between happy and murder (though that could be left over from the game?), which just leaves Steve and Dr. Banner looking confused. Peter figures he can deal with confused. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks cautiously, half-way mapping an escape route in his head. 

“Um, I think it’s - uh,” Dr. Banner starts then just ends up looking at Steve as if he’d said nothing and the question had been solely directed to the Captain in the first place. It made Peter relax just a little, oddly enough. 

“It’s, uh!” Steve starts, a little startled before he clears his throat as he shoots a look at Clint for the snickering. “We just aren’t used to you calling him Tony.” 

This….is not what Peter was expecting. 

He looks over to where Tony is looking like a deer caught in the headlights and Natasha is looking up at the ceiling for a moment as if asking for strength. 

Or patience. 

Or maybe just to smite them all where they stood. 

Peter wasn’t sure if Natasha really liked any of them at that particular moment. 

She then sighs as she rolls her head back down, looking at everyone with an unamused grimace before saying, “Eat. Before it’s cold.” 

This seems to snap everyone out of their weird mood because they all follow her into the kitchen, Clint grabbing the bags from Peter and Tony, cackling, “Have fun!” while clapping Tony on the shoulder on his way out. 

There’s an awkward pause while Tony seems to be contemplating Peter’s earlier escape routes so Peter decides to start with, “So did I get your name wrong? Do I not know the name of one of my best friends?” He says it half like a joke in the hopes that he’s somehow wrong. Another thing he doesn’t expect is Tony sputtering like he’d just said something insane. 

_ Add out of the loop to The List _ , Peter thinks a little dejectedly. 

“No, no, don’t make the lost puppy eyes, you know I can’t take those.” Tony says as he walks a little close to him. 

Peter looks back at Tony with a smile, just a little sad around the edges, as he quips, “Nah, but now I do.” Tony smiles back, soft and a little hesitant as he reaches out and places a light hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I got busy. To be fair, I was emailing your professors, as you, to let them know you’re ‘sick’.” Tony says and Peter feels the concern wash over him a moment or two before Tony sees it. “Don’t worry! They’re all ok with it and they’ll be emailing you soon. If we really need to, I can have Dr. Cho write you a doctor’s excuse. She knows about you, all of us really. So your grades will be just fine.” 

“Oh, ok.” Peter says with a small nod to himself. 

“And I’m sorry about the whole,” Tony says, waving his hand around a little, “ ‘Mr. Stark’ thing.” 

“Do you want me to call you Mr. Stark?” Peter asks with a slight tilt of his head as he tries to read Tony’s reaction. He didn’t hate it when Peter called him Tony, he’s fairly confident he would’ve noticed that, even without his memories. What’s confusing him is why he’d call him that in the first place. There’s the age difference, obviously, but what had felt more obvious was that they were friends. Tony was protective of him but he also joked with him and they worked on projects together more as equals than anything else as far as Peter could tell. Why wouldn’t friends or maybe coworkers not use each other’s first names? 

“It’s, ah. Well, um. So I recruited you into all,” more hand waving, “ _ this _ when you were still in highschool. You’re in college now, by the way. And, uh, I guess, at first you viewed me as a bit more of a mentor, teacher-y type.” Tony is making a face that looks somewhere between ‘how did I do’ and ‘that was horrible wasn’t it’. 

Peter raises an eyebrow, Tony huffs a little and continues, “Well after initially teaming up with the whole you stole Cap’s shield briefly thing, since you had this fancy suit I gave you, you kept me updated. After a while of you leaving me voicemails and sending me emails and never getting a reply, you took matters into your own hands.” He’s starting to look guilty and sad and generally hunched in on himself and Peter’s not sure what to do until Tony seems to shake himself a little and clears his throat, saying, “Long story short I was a dick and an ass and you were reckless and angsty, but we eventually got our shit together and started talking instead of acting out like children.” A rueful smile appears on Tony’s face as he adds, “You, at least, had the excuse of actually being one.” 

He meets Peter’s eyes and his smile goes softer, fonder, “Then you grew up.” Peter’s cheeks warm under the older man’s gaze and he steps forward, just a little, just once, as if pulled by a magnet in his chest. “We got a little closer when I offered you an internship, partially as a cover for the whole ‘you’re Spider-man’ thing but mostly because you and May were struggling and won’t just….take my money when I offered it. I convinced you that the internship would help me and I’d pay you for it, enough for you two to get by.” Tony chuckles a little looking up at the ceiling, a little sarcasm in his voice as he added, “That damn moral compass of yours. You got it from May, if not from being raised by her then it’s encoded into your DNA, somewhere.” Tony’s head drops forward again with that easy smile as he says, “And somewhere along the way, during the internship, once you started college and moved in here and told everyone on the team your identity and living your life instead of what you thought everyone expected of you, we became friends. You just never really dropped the formality.” 

“Did you ever ask me to?” Peter asks, getting a snort out of Tony as he leans heavily against the couch, 

“I’ve told you to a few times. To just call me Tony. You’d found me passed out in the lab or half lucid after living off coffee for forty-eight hours straight one too many times for me to really try to pretend this was still a mentor/mentee thing and not something like friends or at the very least equals. You always insisted I stop calling you kid first, though.” He smirks a little, something sad hiding behind his eyes, “And old habits die hard, I guess.” 

Peter tries to soak it all in, mull over all the information he was just given when he is suddenly struck, wholeheartedly, with the feel of  _ Fuck It _ . 

Peter nods, a little to himself, a little to Tony, and says “Ok.” with a smile that makes him feel warm. 

Because, it’s clicked for him. 

Just like Bucky said, there’s plenty of him left in his head (apparently). He doesn’t need to second guess what all his reactions would be if he had his memories. No one’s going to be mad at him (probably) if he tells them he doesn’t know and why that is. At least not in the Tower, where he’s trusted these half dozen people with what seems to be his best kept secret. 

Because he’s starting to realize that when they say they're all on this team together, they really mean they’re all in this family together. Found family, but family nonetheless. 

Tony however, “Wait, what? You’re not mad?” Peter rolls his eyes before reaching out and grabbing one of Tony’s hands, “Of course not. Besides, you haven’t called me ‘kid’ much.” Peter grins as he starts walking backwards to tow Tony into the kitchen with him, “ Plus, I’d say I can get us even again,  _ Mr. Stark _ .” 

And if Peter grins a little bigger because of the blush on Tony’s cheeks, well, no one really has to know.

***********************************************************   
  


Dinner was great, there was plenty of food and there were other people who also had giant metabolisms so Peter didn’t feel so bad for eating so much. 

Somewhere in the middle of eating, though, someone had started telling stories. Apparently Peter’s reactions were great. 

(“Oh my god, did Spider-Man  _ die _ ?!” 

“Underoos,  _ you’re _ Spider-man!” 

“Oh, right….” 

Cue raucous laughter from all present parties.) 

This only encouraged more stories from everyone. As people finished the trash was cleared and the dishes were washed and desert was debated and distributed but the stories never stopped. Which is how the whole team found themselves, still at the dinner table late at night, laughing and smiling and leaning on each other. Tony’s arm rarely left the back of Peter’s chair and every nudge, every smug look, every story Tony told about Peter that the others didn’t even know about felt like a revelation and another bubble of hope in his chest. 

Eventually Steve and Natasha said they were going to bed and encouraged (told) everyone else to do so as well. Tony offered to walk Peter to his room and, though Peter told him he’d actually been in there earlier, he did want to show him something he wanted to ask the other man about. Though he looked surprised, Tony readily agreed. 

He seems nervous the entire way there and once they’re in the apartment he starts saying, “Look, are you sure you want to show me whatever it is that you want to show me? I don’t want you to show me something you’re going to regret, once you remember everything again.” Peter shrugs a little before he impulsively grabs Tony’s hand to tow him further into the apartment and down the hall. 

“I’m still me. I don’t think I’ll regret this when I remember everything. And even if I do, it’s all my own fault, you’re not making me do anything.” He stops in front of the lab doors, turning to Tony with a smirk as he reaches out to the hand scanner and adds, “Besides, you showed me yours right?” 

Tony’s mouth opens, probably to say something like ‘you don’t have to’ or ‘maybe we shouldn’t’ but it quickly goes slack at seeing Peter’s lab. Peter tugs him in gently with the hand he’s still holding, a smug pride welling up inside him, forgoing the chair in favor of hopping up on a clear space on the lab table. Tony stares around in wonder for a moment or two before he slips his hand from Peter’s and begins to explore the space more. 

He’s taking it all in the same way Peter must have looked when he had walked in earlier that day. As if he was seeing the whole place for the first time. 

“You’ve never seen this place before.” Peter says, drawing Tony’s attention away from one of the plants with purple flowers and back to him. 

“Did you think I had?” Tony asks. Peter shakes his head as he starts to scan the shelves to avoid Tony’s gaze. 

He hears as Tony takes a step or two towards him as Tony asks, “Then why did you bring me here?” 

Peter smiles a little sheepishly and shrugs as he responds, “You said I didn’t have anything. Pretty sure you made a joke about a possible pet rock. This,” Peter gestures at the lab at large, “is a little more than a pet rock.” Smiling shyly over at Tony he continues, “Figured someone should know if something ever actually happened to me. I did get kidnapped, after all.” He smiles fondly at Peter as he gets next to him and slings an arm across his back, near his waist, leaning against the lab table and tucking Peter into his side. 

“With the set up you got, they’d live without you around for a long time. You didn’t have to tell me about it so try again, undroos.” Peter huffs and lays his arm across Tony’s shoulders. He tenses for just a moment before he relaxes and leans into it. Peter is silently pleased as he pulls the man a little closer to himself. 

“I guess, I just thought you should know. We’re close and I couldn’t find a single reason I hadn’t told you or showed you yet.” He grins down at Tony from his perch and adds, “But also this place is really cool and I’ve apparently done this mostly on my own. Gotta brag somehow, right?” Tony chuckles a little as he grins back and squeezes Peter’s side as he does. 

“Well I’m glad you showed me.” he adds. They stay there for a few minutes, quietly observing the plants and soaking up the warmth of each other. 

Peter is content to sit there for hours if he’s being honest with himself but Karen’s kind voice chimes in, “Peter, may I suggest that you turn out the lights in the lab? I think you’ll be happy with the results.” 

Peter and Tony’s eyes dart to one and others in a silent conversation before Peter smiles and says, “Ok, Karen, hit the lights.” The lights dim down for a couple of seconds before going out completely. 

There is a moment or two where nothing happens then, “ _ Oh _ .” they say in unison. 

Half of the plants are brightly bioluminescent and the colors are  _ extraordinary _ . Every color he could think of from one dim enough to be candle light to another bright enough to light a street corner. Some have spots of lights while others have blotches and smears, like a calico cat. Sometimes, it’s the leaves, sometimes it’s the flowers. Rarely, it seems, the whole plant glows and pulses, almost like a slow heartbeat, almost like it’s breathing. 

Peter’s jaw is hanging is in an open mouthed smile taking it all in, head on a swivel until he sees Tony. 

He looks almost ethereal in the light. The lights dance along the sprinkling of greys as his eyes reflect the plants he focuses on and he grins proudly, as if Peter’s accomplishments are just as important to him as his own. As if Peter has shown him something he has never seen before, a feat he’s nearly positive is something very hard to do. 

When Tony’s eyes meet his, he feels his breath catch in his chest. 

He’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, memories be damned. 

Peter reaches out to smooth an errant hair behind Tony’s ear and takes the opportunity of the motion to thread his fingers gently into the hair at the back of the back of the older man’s hair. 

“You’re beautiful when you smile.” Peter says, the precise amount of gone on this man he is leaking into his voice through the rasp in his chest, around the heat building in his guts. Peter coaxes Tony slowly, softly into standing between his legs facing him, looking up at him and he thinks to himself quietly,  _ if I tried to keep him here forever would he stay? _ He has his other hand threaded into the hair on the other side of Tony’s head and Tony’s hands are grabbing his hips, tightening and releasing his grip, like he doesn’t know if he wants to pull Peter in or let him set the pace. 

Peter figures he can’t blame the man, when he can’t decide himself which one he would prefer. 

He watches as he scratches gently at the older man’s scalp, feels the warmth build into his chest as Tony’s eyes flutter shut then open to focus on him. Memorizes the way Tony’s breath hitches under his fingertips as he starts to lean his face closer to the older man’s space. Reins in his heart so it doesn’t leap out to meet Tony’s, rapidly beating away in his chest if the pulse in his neck is any indication. Their foreheads meet, breathing erratic at best, when Tony’s hand comes up to caress his check. Peter leans in the touch and smiles slightly at the little noise that that simple action seems to pull from Tony’s chest. 

“ _ Fuck _ , kid, I - ” 

_ Bee-beep _ . 

It’s like everything freezes at the text tone, the breath-like glow of the plants, the wiring of the servos that regulate the feeding and watering of the plants, the tick of various testing machines. 

The breath in both of their lungs.

Then,

Fucking  _ then _ ,

Tony practically rips himself from Peter’s hold. 

He stumbles back as if he anticipated more resistance and Peter winces because all he had been concerned about was that Tony might hurt himself with his hair tangled in Peter’s hands, not with the force of getting away. 

“I’m  _ so sorry _ .” Tony says as he backs himself to the door. 

“No, I -” 

“No, kid, this is entirely my fault, I just -! I am so  _ so _ sorry.” Tony says emphatically and Peter tries to explain, tries to tell him  _ something.  _

_ Anything. _

But then Tony’s gone, his hurried footsteps echoing dully through the hall, into the living room and quickly, so quickly into the elevator. 

Peter is crushed but also incredibly confused. 

He and Tony were close, really close. He knew that like he knew how to fix Bucky's arm. And he had been nearly completely positive that Tony was flirting with him at dinner, Peter had flirted back. Beyond that it seemed that Tony knew just about everything about him. There’s a reason it got to a point at dinner that everyone would just look at Tony for Peter’s side of the story, right? He wasn't sure exactly what he'd done wrong. If it was the whole thing or some small move he'd made but - 

The man had practically  _ ran _ from his apartment. He must have screwed whatever up  _ royally.  _

Peter lets out a breath once he remembers the lungs in his chest do more than simply add to the pain in and around his heart and throat. 

“Lights.” he croaks out after a minute of breathing around the lump he can’t seem to swallow back. He feels cool metal wind itself around his neck and a small binocular head bury itself there, too, with a couple of sad whirring clacks. 

That’s the thing that breaks him. 

Peter cries, hugging the little robot, clutching at them like their little arms around his neck were the only thing keeping him from truly, completely falling apart. Once he’s cried himself out he leaves his lab, strips, and gets himself cleaned and ready for bed on muscle memory alone. 

His little ‘bot sits on his nightstand and pets his hair with their little grabber claw hands until he’s asleep, the quiet clicks and ticks sending him off gently and deeply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what's wrong.


	5. Chapter5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! My yesterday was quite a lot, sorry 😅

Peter wakes from a dream of being crushed under something large and immoveable and suffocating to Karen saying, “Peter, Ms. May is at the door and is requesting entry. Should I let her in?” 

Peter is busy panting and clutching at his chest for a few minutes, slowly coming back from the dream, so he doesn’t respond before he starts to hear the pounding on the door to the apartment. 

“Why’s -” he starts then clears his throat so he doesn’t sound so hoarse. “Why’s there banging?” 

“That would be Ms. May. would you like me to pull up the security video?” Karen asks and Peter agrees. There is a woman who looks thoroughly irate in scrubs and a jacket with her brown hair in a ponytail, flyaways in a fuzzy halo making her look even more distressed. Peter gestures and closes the feed before sitting there for a moment, trying to figure out why this person would be banging at his door. After another round of thuds start up Peter decided that no, no he doesn’t have anything left in him to really deal with this right now. 

He debates, for just a moment, asking Karen or Friday if they could contact Tony to help with whatever the hell was going on but shook his head after a moment. He’d fucked that up and didn’t plan on touching that until he got his memories back and could understand exactly what he’d done wrong. 

“Nope.” Peter mutters to himself as he makes his way into his bathroom, “Nopity, nope, nope, no.” 

He asks Karen if he has a playlist and when she informs him he has  _ loads _ he asks what they’re named. When he concludes his naming of playlists is nonsense, he just asks her to put all of the most played songs in a playlist and play that. He also decides a shower is both needed and a good way to create more noise to drown out the banging. The heat and pounding water helps to clear his head and bring the world into a bit more focus. 

He determines two things while he’s under the spray. 

One, he should really actually speak to the woman banging on his door. It’s probably the right thing to do even if he has no real idea about who she is or why she’s trying to break his entrance way. Second, he should apologize to Tony. He’s not sure what exactly he did to make the man so uncomfortable, but the responsible thing to do is to apologize, ask what he’d done so he can make sure not to do that again, and then give the man any space he may require. Avoiding Tony would only put off the inevitable and maybe even give the wrong impression. 

With his to-do list effectively made, he gets out the shower. 

He towels off, brushes his teeth, then tries to comb his hair. It...mostly works, even if the comb bends dangerously a couple of times. He digs around and finds some clothes that seem clean, a loose t-shirt and some work out shorts. 

Leaving the bathroom, he heads for the living room and says, “Karen, is, um - May! Is Ms. May still outside the door?” 

“No, she left.” Peter nods, mentally noting this so he doesn’t forget to apologize to her later, as well as Tony. 

_ Really racking those up, huh, dumbass _ , he thinks as he starts to rummage around his kitchen for something to eat. 

He finds eggs and cheese plus some seasoning he figures will go well together and eats dry cereal from a mug while he cooks. Once the eggs are done he dumps them in a mug, as well…. 

He’s not sure where all the plates and bowls are and he honestly can’t say he cares much, at this point. 

Once done with breakfast he checks the time and finds that it's only seven in the morning and maybe he shouldn’t be expecting people to be awake at this hour. Even if Ms. May was banging on his door even earlier, it still seems somewhat rude. 

So, instead, he decides he’ll clean. He rounds up all the dishes first, since he doesn’t seem to have anything clean except for mugs. By the time he’s done, he’s filled the dishwasher with a few things left to simply wash and dry by hand. After that he grabs all the clothes that smell even a little off and toss them in an empty laundry basket he finds shoved to the back of his closet. A little poking around finds the washer and dryer in a closet in the hall, loading half of the basket into the washer, throwing in some detergent, and putting the machine going. He’s debating what to clean next or maybe he’d like to explore the lab more and hang out with the little ‘bot there, when he hears the murmur of voices outside of his door. 

“Mr. Barnes, Captain Rogers, and Ms. May are currently outside of your door. They request that you speak to them.” Karen says. 

“Sure, let them in.” Peter says as he makes his way back to the living area. He hears steps but doesn’t process how fast or how close they are until there’s a blur of motion to his right and - 

“ _ Peter! _ ” someone says, loudly, as they tackle him in a hug. 

Or, rather, it feels like a tackle but he sticks himself to the floor and uses his strength to keep himself standing. 

He opens his mouth so say something but is swiftly cut off as the person flings themselves back with their hands gripping his shoulders tightly. 

There’s a moment for him to process that this is the Ms. May from earlier before she starts in, “You had me so  _ worried _ ! You always text, you promised you would, and then you never replied when I texted you!” Her face crumples a bit then he’s being yanked back into her arms, too stund to do much more than hug her back, though not as roughly. “I know you’re all grown up and you’ve got super powers and  _ whatever _ .” she practically whines into his neck, “But I still worry about you.” 

Peter holds her a bit tighter, “I’m sorry I worried you so bad.” There’s a slight russell of clothes and movement and Peter looks up to see two very awkward super soldiers standing next to his coffee table. “Hello.” he says, somewhat reflexively, at a bit of a loss as to what else to say. 

Cap waves, a little dazed while Bucky just grunts in acknowledgement. 

“Crap! Right.” Ms. May says, letting Peter go and wiping at her face before she turns to the super soldiers and says, “I’m sorry for dragging you around. I really did think something was wrong.” 

The two men look at each other then Bucky walks to the door with a mumbled, “Your problem.” before he’s through the door and gone. Cap looks back over at them, Ms. May specifically and smiles a little sheepishly. 

“Well, uh, you see ma’am. There is something a little bit wrong.” Ms. May stiffens and both turn to look at Peter. Ms. May with pure worry while Cap looks encouraging. 

“I, uh,” Peter starts, clears his throat, fidgets, then, “I l-lost all of my memories. And I don’t really know who you are. Well anyone really. Or who I am, exactly.” Ms. May just keeps staring at him, though the worry has morphed to shock. 

“Are you, uh, are you like my mom or something?” Peter asks, very hesitant with a sinking feeling settling in his guts. 

“Nope.” Ms. May mutters before she blinks, once, twice, then, “Nopity, nope, nope, no.” Ms. May mutters as she turns on her heel for the elevator. The elevator glides open seamlessly, as if waiting for her. “Nat, please.” she says a little faintly and Cap steps toward her, but the doors close before he can get a word out.

Peter stands there stunned before turning to find a concerned and confused Steve looking back. 

“Too much?” Peter asks with a shrug and a shaky smile. 

“Maybe.” Steve agrees.

***

After many awkward moments, Steve suggests some training and Peter, with no better ideas and with a desperate need to not be left to his own thoughts, agrees. 

The training room is huge, spread out with high ceilings and plenty of padding on every surface. But that’s it, besides a few doors. 

“This….isn’t what I was expecting.” Steve snorts, drawing Peter’s attention to find the man smiling and shaking his head. 

“You said the exact same thing the first time Tony brought you here to train with us.” he explains and Peter tries for some sort of agreeable noise and amicable face but feels he probably falls short. 

_ You’re always falling short _ , he thinks a little bitterly as they make their way to the bench he hadn’t noticed. Steve wraps his hand and feet then wraps Peter’s after he messes up a few times. Peter rolls his eyes as Steve reassures him that he’s always been awful at wraps. There’s stretching then a warm up of jogging and some punching at the air before they settle into figuring out just how much Peter remembers. 

The first time Steve swings at him, it’s like his spine tries to twitch out of his body and he’s flipping away and landing in a crouch before he’s really thinking through the motions. The second he has a moment to think, he falls on his ass, so clearly thinking is what he needs to  _ not _ be doing. 

“Whoa.” he manages as he pats down his ribs, half checking on his spine half just trying to breath a bit. 

Steve raises an eyebrow with a grin and asks, “Peter tingle?” like that’s supposed to  _ mean _ something 

“What?!” Peter squawks and Steve cackles. 

“You call it your Spidey-sense.” Steve adds with a shrug as Peter gets back to his feet. 

“That’s,” Peter breathes out a little as he flexes his fingers, “that’s better.” 

It turns out that muscle memory and the Spider-sense ( _ christ _ it needs a better name) took care of a lot of his fighting ability. They switch between Steve beating him up and watching videos of past fights, both with the team and with villains. 

Peter wants to use his web shooters but Steve says, “Maybe we should just figure out you fighting on the ground first.” Peter rolls his eyes and flops back dramatically and Steve tries for disapproving but doesn’t quite drown out all of his amusement. 

They’ve been fighting for hours based off the ache in Peter’s lungs alone when Friday chimes in, “The door is about to open. Please refrain from throwing until the door is closed.” 

Peter, who has collapsed on the ground for a break starts to weakly giggle as he imagines all the reasons why  _ that _ message may have been programmed to play. 

The weak giggles turn into a choked off squeak when he hears “Hey, Cap. Did you kill the spiderling?” Luckily Peter’s weird noises get covered up by Steve's snorting laugh. 

“Nah, I think he’ll live.” Steve calls back as he gets up to presumably talk to Tony at a non-shouting distance. Peter stays, laying on his back in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do. He needed to apologize to Tony, he wasn’t giving up on that, but he didn’t want to do it in front of Steve. If Tony told Steve afterwards or even now, it was fine, he was entitled to speak to friends about his issues but Peter wanted him to have the option, not force the other man to have issues in his personal life spread around the team without his say so. 

Peter is still laying there, agonizing over his life, when Tony’s face appears in front of him. He’s standing with a strained smile and a halo of golden-brown light ringing his gorgeous face.  _ Stop that _ , he whines at himself inside of his head,  _ you can’t think like that when he still hates you for last night _ . 

“Hey, kid. Want to spare? Steve had somewhere to be.” Tony says as he holds a hand out for Peter to take. He grimaces slightly at the reappearance of this nickname for him. He can’t know for sure, but he’s thinking he must hate it just as much with his memories as without them. 

But he takes Tony’s hand with a nod and replies, “Sure thing,” adding, because he just can’t help himself, “Mr. Stark.” 

Tony doesn’t look happy with that name either. 

He’s already warmed up so he just does some mild stretching while Tony gets warmed up and it’s not long before they’re facing each other, hands up to block and feet staggered for balance. A couple punches are thrown, a few grabs are made, one or two kicks, but it’s all testing the waters and trying to figure each other out again. 

Then Tony starts to really try and take his head off. 

Peter figures, on some level, that he deserves it, but he’s also not going to just lay down and take it. Besides, Tony is smirking and the spidey-sense isn’t lighting up in techni-color so he’s thinking they usually fight like this. Eventually they find a rhythm, an ebb and flow of movement and a balance between killing each other and going too soft to be useful. 

“That all you got, underoos?” Tony goads Peter, lightly teasing but shocking all the same. 

Tony falters, same as Peter, but he shakes it off with a smile and light jab, saying, “I got plenty more, old man.” 

They get back into their rhythm, though this time trash talk and insults and laughter fly between them as well. It feels good, Peter thinks this must be what most of their training is like. Maybe even just hanging out with each other. 

_ Will it ever feel this easy, outside of a fight, with how badly you messed up last night? _

Peter is distracted by the thought for long enough that Tony gets the upper hand, sliding into Peter’s space to place his hands and hips in just such a way as to flip Peter over, slamming him into the ground with a grunt. Peter is stunned and doesn’t fight it as Tony seamlessly pins him to the ground, knocking the air from his chest for more reasons than one. He hits the ground hard, with a force he wasn’t sure the other man possessed with his age and non-enhanced humanity. 

The other reason is that the halo is back and fluffier, too. This time, the smile is wide and carefree with a flushed face, panting while his eyes spark dangerously. Peter feels himself smile, though it’s sad, and Tony sees it almost immediately and looks like he’s either going to start talking fast or running faster because of it. 

So Peter grabs him, sticking to him, breaking the unspoken agreement to fight like regular humans, and breaths out, “I’m sorry.” This seems to startle Tony so he Peter keeps going, talking fast to get everything out before the other man can leave. “I’m not sure exactly what I did wrong but I obviously made you uncomfortable last night. That was never my intention. I don’t know if it’s because of something I said or did but just tell me what it was and I won’t do it again.” Tony’s still pinning him even as Peter lets go of his stick but he just looks completely confused at what Peter had to say. 

There’s no stopping the words from pouring out as he continues, “Was it that I brought you to the lab? Did you feel trapped? Or was it because we’re just friends and you don’t see me -?” This startles a huff out of the man and the tension in his shoulders ratchets down a little, though the pain on his face seems to counter that action. 

“Don’t see you like - ?” another huff as he rolls himself back on to his haunches, still stradling Peter’s hips but no longer truly pinning him. A hand comes up to wipe down his own face as he mutters, “I should be apologizing to you, damn it.” 

“What do you have to apologize for?” Peter retorts as he sits up, sounding sullen. “I’m the one that flirted with you and took you back to the lab and tried to kiss -” 

“No!” Tony half shouts as he takes Peter’s shoulders and shoves him back to the mat, trying to get the younger man to listen to him. “I’m the adult here and I made you uncomfortable.  _ None _ of this is your fault, do you understand?” 

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” 

Tony levels him with a dry look with a raised eyebrow and says, just as arid, “I’m about twice your age and we meant when you were in highschool.” 

Peter snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, nice try, but you already told me we weren’t even friendly until I got to college.” 

“I could be lying to you.” 

“You’re not  _ that _ stupid. I am getting my memories back eventually and you’ve been nothing but kind to me so far.” Tony still looks unsettled and determined to somehow make it all his fault and all Peter can do is roll his eyes and grin. 

He tries to tap down on the happy fluttering in his chest but he can’t because this has confirmed some things for him. Tony wasn’t upset by last night, that’s not why he had run, he was only worried that Peter would be upset with him. And Peter was  _ far _ from upset with this man. He also realizes that Tony has never said that he didn’t like Peter back or that Peter’s flirting was unwanted. 

So he acts fast. 

Peter flips Tony over using his hips and enhanced strength. Draping himself along Tony’s body as he scures both of the man’s hands above his head, mirroring their previous position. Then he drags himself slowly along Tony’s torso until they’re face to face, Peter’s face hovering over a shocked Tony with a smirk. 

“Besides,” Peter says, voice dropping a little with the intimate situation, “maybe I like them older.” Tony gapes in utter surprise as Peter smiles, sweet and innocent, ticking an eyebrow up and humming, short and deep in his chest. 

There’s a sputter, some blinking, then, “You  _ can’t _ just - !” 

Peter drops his face down a little as his smile turns to a sharp, heated grin and he whispers, “I just did.” 

Then he’s off of Tony and standing and watching as the flustered man blushes and splutters and says, “ _ Kid _ that’s not -! You’re not  _ allowed _ to just -!” 

Peter chuckles a bit and cuts the older man off, saying, “Like I said I just did.” His face softens a little as he continues, “And you can tell me you don’t want me to keep flirting or calling you Tony or anything that makes you uncomfortable, just let me know, I'll stop.” Tony, looking called out for not telling Peter to stop, point blank, blushes more and huffs. “And really, I tried to kiss you first, so balls in your court, so to speak.” Peter says, the older man squawking as Peter feels the mischievous look slip onto his face with his words. 

“But that doesn’t mean, I’m out of the game,  _ Mr. Stark _ .” 

He’s running and cackling, listening to Tony chase him as they sprint out the training room and through the halls. 

_ Another thing for The List of Things I Know Now: _ , Peter thinks to himself as he turns a corner with a squeal,  _ I’m maybe a little bit in love with Tony Stark. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think?
> 
> Also, if you'd like to make friends, Im on tumblr at weforgotthatwearethestars  
> I'd love to chat :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone that's been commenting and giving this story kudos 🥰 Please know that it is greatly appreciated, each and every one.

After chasing each other and horsing around, they go back to the lab. 

Peter asks about his cell phone, if he has one and if he can please use it, but it turns out that it was wiped along with the suit because he had brought it with him. Although the good news was that he could have a new one in about an hour because all the data on his cell phone would back itself up just like Karen. Apparently, destroyed phones were a common problem for superheroes. 

Unfortunately, Tony still had work to do so they were only in the lab together for a couple of hours before Pepper was there, pulling him into a meeting. 

(“It’s Saturday!” 

“Well at least you know what day it is.” 

“ _ Hey _ !”) 

And Peter was left alone, once more. 

He finishes his repairs to his web shooters, testing and retesting them, perhaps, a little more than necessary before he takes them off and leaves them on the table.  _ Time to stop procrastinating _ , Peter thinks as he gets up and leaves the lab. 

“Friday,” he says as he watches the elevator doors close like a conviction and takes a deep breath, “where is Ms. May?” 

There’s a pause then, “She is on Agent Natasha’s floor.” 

At first, Peter is surprised, then he asks, “Could you please take me to her?” 

“Yes, I can.” Friday responds as the elevator starts to move. It doesn’t take long before he is at Natasha’s floor and the elevator door is opening to her living area and  _ oh fuck _ \- 

“ _ Noooooo _ !” May says as she sinks a little further into the plush couch of Natasha’s living area. It's the same living area as his apartment. In fact it seems like it’s almost exactly the same as his own apartment’s living, dining, and kitchen areas. 

“What’s she  _ doing _ ?!” May says as Natasha glances at Peter, looking into his very  _ soul _ at a glance, before she responds, “Basically agreeing to go out with him.” 

“ _ Why?! _ ” 

“You know I don’t understand that part all that much.” Natasha says with a smirk. There’s a slight whine from May and Peter finally registers what, exactly, is happening. May is pressing her whine into Natasha’s neck as they cuddle on the couch in an action he can't really imagine doing. Natasha is snorting and chuckling, lightly as they cuddle on the couch, rubbing a hand up and down May’s arm. There’s some sort of movie playing on the tv and Peter realizes that that’s probably what they had been talking about. He must scuff the floor or maybe it’s the sound of the elevator closing but May looks over and sees Peter standing awkwardly by the door trying not to take up too much space. 

“Hi, I...uh -” he shakes his head a little, squares his shoulders and says, calm but determined, “I’m sorry about, uh, whatever it is I did. And that I can’t remember you. Or anyone. I just wanted to apologize, in person.” Shrinking in on himself a little as he turns to hit the button on the door, he continues in a much more insecure tone, “But I think I’m probably interrupting -” 

“Peter.” He freezes like he’s six with his hand in a cookie jar instead of half way to the proverbial door knob. Peter turns to face the two women on the couch as May sticks out her arm and waves him over. He goes, if hesitantly, and sits between the two of them when they make a space and wave him into it. Once sitting he’s almost immediately pulled into May’s arms. 

“Natasha told me what happened and how you guys plan to fix it.” She squeezes him a little tighter and says, “You’re making this up to me when you get your memories back, I can see it now.” 

He’s nodding before she even finishes her sentence and says quickly, “Yeah! Of course! I can do whatever now if - ” 

“Sweetheart.” she says, a smile in her voice as she brushes through his curls, “I didn’t mean to say it like I’m forcing you. I just know that’s what you’re going to do.” He pulls away to look at her face and she’s smiling at him but it’s sad and fond, too, and so, so warm. She cups his cheek as she adds, “Usually no matter how many times I tell you that you don’t have to.” 

There’s too many emotions swirling through him. He knows he should feel something for this woman sitting in front of him. It’s in the way she gestures him around with complete confidence that he’ll listen to her. It’s in the way she holds his check and looks at him like he’s something precious. 

He means  _ a lot _ to her, she  _ knows _ him. 

But he doesn’t remember any of it. 

He knows there must be memories there, reasons behind the emotions he can see written all over her face. He wants to ask, but he knows he shouldn’t, especially based off of the last time he asked her something. It’s frustrating and vexing and  _ heartbreakingly _ \- 

“We were watching a movie if you’d like to join us?” Natasha says from behind Peter. It breaks the tension and May chuckles a bit as she pulls him back into her arms. 

“Sure.” Peter says with a quick smile to Natasha. She waves and Friday (presumably) unpauses the movie. Natasha looks them over, Peter sees it out of the corner of his eye. It’s assessing and calculating, but also worried and warm. Then it’s gone, turning back to the tv like she’d never been interrupted. 

She does, however, place a hand lightly onto Peter's thigh. It’s not possessive or protective, just like she wants to remind herself that he’s there. 

It feels just as warm and all consuming as May’s arms around him. 

And it makes all the difference. 

***

They finish the movie. It’s objectively confusing but May seems happy with the ending so Peter figures it might be because he missed the beginning and probably most of the middle. 

After that May insists on bringing out baby pictures to, as she puts it, ‘reteach you about your past.’ Peter is about to inform her that it’s fine and she doesn’t need to worry about it and he’ll get his memories back soon enough. One look from Natasha has him swallowing his words as May scrolls through her phone for which albums she wants to show him. 

It’s actually quite nice and fairly informative. It also allows him to ask questions while May focuses on her phone instead of looking right at him and seeing the confusion for sure. Peter figures that might help her with answering his questions but he still tries to limit it to only the most important things. He learns that his parents died when he was really young, that May is his aunt and had been married to Uncle Ben who had died sometime when Peter was in early highschool or late middle school. As far as he could tell it was just him and May for a long time after that. 

There were a few pictures of him and his two friends, the same friends on his walls in his apartment. Then came the album that Friday had to pull up on the tv because the pictures were kept in a secure server you had to access through her. 

“For your identity.” Natasha had murmured to him as May called up and sorted through the photos. Peter is a little stunned that such lengths would be taken for him but he soon finds that it’s not just him. There are loads of photos of all of the superheros he’s met and some he hasn’t. The varying hair and beard styles have him laughing a little but the suit changes are fassinating. He makes a mental note to go over them in the schematics, if he gets a chance or gets bored. 

During these photos is when Natasha starts telling all the stories. May still adds in her two cents but it’s mostly Natasha telling stories while May thanks her for teaching Peter about a million different things that generally consist of superhero skills. Fighting, both against an armed opponent and hand-to-hand, stealth and reconnaissance, how to disassemble a gun, how to diffuse a bomb. The list is long and May pales at certain stories, clearly reliving the aftermath of Peter’s injuries or nights of nightmares afterward. 

The more recent photos, though, seem less traumatic for her so maybe he’s getting better. 

One or two darker looks from Natasha and he’s amending it to, maybe he’s just gotten better at hiding the bad stuff from May. 

They’re on a much happier and goofier story of Spiderman befriending a large octopus-like monster from some place Thor knew more about, when it clicks in his head. These are basically his parents. May, in the more traditional sense that she raised him and taught him to be polite and encouraged his educational growth as well as his emotional one. She taught him how to be an average person and how to see the best in people. 

But Natasha is the one that taught him how to prepare for the worst in people and how to fight against it. Sure, he had looked up to Iron Man and Captain America as a kid (if the childhood halloween photos were anything to go by), but it was in the same way that he’d also seemed to look up to Star Wars characters. When he’d become a hero and a part time Avenger and started to really make a difference in the world, that’s where Natahsa came in. 

The other’s helped, of course they did. It wasn’t like Tony and Steve seemed to be able to stay out of much when it came to this team-turned-family. 

But Natasha seemed to have taken an interest in him. 

“You needed a little toughening up. The other’s are much better at getting people to soften.” she'd joked when he’d asked, as casually as he could manage. There was a fond look in her eye when she said that and May’s smile had widened just a little. There was something there he didn’t know about but he wasn’t too worried about it. Because, as much as they seemed to be co-parenting him, he was pretty sure they were at least friends outside of that. 

And who was he to deny them inside jokes? 

Eventually, Friday informs him that his phone is done being set up and is currently waiting for him in the lab. They offer to go with him, maybe have lunch all together, but he declines. Luckily, they seem to understand. 

***

He leaves Natasha’s place feeling warm and loved, a drastic difference to the previous night. 

Carrying that with him, he pops into the lab and grabs the phone he’s directed to, on top of one of the tables. He flops onto the couch, turning it on and sorting through it. The contacts are sparse and there are a couple of social media apps but nothing crazy. 

There are pictures though. 

The dumb kind that friends share with each other because they’re close and not affriad of being made fun off. There are also pictures like lego models and museum exhibits and books, so many books. 

The most prominent thing, though, is the missed messages. Several texts from Ned and MJ, several calls and texts from May, and a couple messages from Tony. 

Tony’s are coded and all from the night he was kidnapped so he doesn’t try to decode them, at least not at that moment. May’s messages are all from before she came to his place earlier and talked to him, however brief. Ned’s messages are increasingly nervous sounding and the last couple are from the last hour with varying amounts of question marks. MJ’s two messages are a meme then ‘txt ur husband back hes bugging me’. 

Two very different people, it would seem. 

He scrolls through messages and call logs and decides to text Ned ‘hey! some stuff came up last night but im fine now. sup?’ then texts MJ a picture of a cute dog and a thumbs up. 

Figuring they’ll respond eventually, maybe, he goes back to the home screen to try and find his emails, like Tony had mentioned. But before he can even begin to go through the email app he found, his phone starts to ring. 

‘Ned’ appears on the screen as well as the buttons to accept or decline and for a moment he’s frozen because talking to someone seems like a lot more than texting someone. 

He takes a deep breath and answers. 

“Hello?” 

“Dude, what the hell?! You just hung up last night and never called back! I was about to resort to calling May!” Peter winces at the volume and the anxiety in the guys voices, feeling responsible even though he doesn’t currently know the guy. 

“I-I’m really sorry about that?! Like I said some, uh, stuff came up, but it’s all good now! All cool, so, ah, what’s up?” 

Peter has fidgeted his way into standing while talking and begins pacing the lab as Ned responds, “Yeah, you said that, but what happened? Did you get hurt again?” 

“Noooo, whaaat? I’m  _ completely _ fine! Totally one hundred percent!” 

“Peter,” Ned says with the most dead-pan tone, “you know you can’t lie to save your life. We’ve been over this. MJ has literally laughed in your face over this!” 

Peter has paced up the wall and onto the ceiling. 

Peter is panicking. 

“I, uh! I’ll callyouback!” he gets out in a rush, hangs up, then drops his phone onto the couch below him as he crouches onto the ceiling and scrubs his hands through his hair. He’s freaking out a little because Ned is such an unknown (and MJ, too, he supposes). Everyone he had met so far had been in the Tower and usually around someone else who knew he’d lost his memories. How was he supposed to know if they knew he was Spider-man?! He couldn’t just  _ ask _ them! Who the  _ hell _ was he supposed to ask abou - ?! 

“Karen!” he half shouts, part idea forming in his mind and part getting her attention. 

“Yes, Peter.” 

He spares a moment to hope, desperately, that he won’t have to deal with amnesia without  helpful AI’s programmed into the walls. 

“Do Ned and MJ know that I’m Spider-man?!” he asks as he scuttles across the ceiling and down the wall. 

“Yes, Pe-” 

“Brilliant! Can I talk to them over the phone about it?!” 

“Of course, Stark tech-” 

“Awesome! Thank you so much Karen!” he chirps as he drops from the wall onto the couch and starts rustling around for the phone that is already trilling away somewhere in the pillows. 

There’s an almost annoyed yet fond note in her voice as she responds “No problem, Peter, it’s what I’m here for.” He grins, sheepish and thankful all at once, at the nearest security camera, as he fumbles his phone around to answer Ned’s call. “

Hey-!” 

“ _ Peter _ , what the  _ heck is _ \- ?!” 

“I know! I’m really sorry, but I can explain now, so -!” 

“I swear, if you tell me you’re in the med bed again -” 

“No, I’m all healed up, but it’s just -!” 

“ _Healed up_?! What happened to ‘ _I’m_ _fine_ ’ and - !” 

“ _ I have magically induced amnesia! _ ” 

There’s silence on the other end of the line for a while, making Peter nervous, shrinking into himself and the couch, until, “ _ Christ _ , dude.” Ned breaths out across the line and Peter feels some of his nerves dissipate mildly. “Only you, bro, only you.” 

Peter chuckles nervously at that and there’s a moment of just soaking in the fact that everyone is ok, for now. 

“Want me to come over? I don’t know what you remember or don’t but I imagine you still need food to survive and any memory loss whatsoever is only going to hinder your crap ability to take care of yourself.” 

Peter scoffs a little and starts, “Hey, I’m not  _ that _ -” and is promptly cut off by his stomach growling at him. He must make some noise or maybe Ned even hears the growl from the other end of the line because he just starts laughing like Peter had told him the funniest joke in the world. He tries to be annoyed that his friend is laughing at him but all the smiling really gets in the way of it. 

“Ok, I’m for sure coming over now. Ask Karen to get our usual from that Chinese place we always order from with an extra serving of dumplings because you’ll just eat them all otherwise.” Peter grumbles while Ned chuckles at him. “I’ll be there in like 30 minutes? Is that ok with you?”

Peter grins and says, “Yeah that’d great. I, uh,” Peter says, stalling in the middle of his sentence as he runs his fingers through his hair in a fit of nerves, “I really appreciate it.” 

He can practically hear the grin in Ned’s answering, “No problem, what are friends for?”

***

Peter goes back to his apartment and finishes up the cleaning. The dishwasher is done so he saves all the dishes and the laundry gets switched from the washer to the dryer after he removes a load from there that he (shockingly, I know) doesn’t remember doing. He takes the clothes he found and, based off of the things already put away, folds and hangs things and hopes he’s not fucking up his own system too badly. 

He checks in on the lab and the little ‘bot tackles him excitedly. Karen assures him that everything is being taken care of and none of his experiments look like they’re dying anytime soon. After chatting a little with the ‘bot, he leaves to try and finish cleaning the apartment. 

The only thing left is all the papers and books. The dining table seems to be, according to Karen, all of his college stuff, while the coffee table is his own research split between Spider-Man stuff, things that would seem to fit more in Tony’s lab, and one notebook filled with things that seem to pertain solely to his own lab at the end of the hall. He puts that note book in his bedroom on the end table, then returns to clean the rest of the mess. 

There are three drawers in the coffee table that seem to be composed of Spider-Man suit schematics, ideas to test in Tony’s lab, and the last seems to be just a ton of office supplies. Peter decides to shuffle the papers into the two separated piles of Spider-Man and Not Spider-Man, paper clip the files together, shove them into the respective drawers and hope that was ok. He then opens the last drawer and scoops all the supplies let on the table into the drawer. It, honestly, doesn’t look any less organized, so he's just going to assume that’s his usual move. 

He’s considering starting in on the dining table when Karen says, “Mr. Ned is requesting to come in.” 

“Yes! Let him in!” Peter responds, excitedly. He bounces over then rushes forward at the strangled “help” from Ned due to the amount of crap he’s carrying. Peter grabs most of, super strength coming in handy, and they get it all onto the coffee table without dropping anything. 

“This is an awful lot of food, dude. Are you sure this is what we usually get?” 

“Actually,” Karren chimes in, “Agent Natasha also ordered something. Friday has informed her that she can pick it up from here. Friday also took the liberty of ordering Mr. Stark some food for after his meetings. She requests that you refrigerate it, then have it delivered to him once he is free.” 

Peter makes some sort of acknowledgment then helps Ned sort everything. Tony’s food goes into a bag in the fridge, Natasha’s into a bag next to the coffee table, and everything else is spread out so they can grab whatever they want. Peter also grabs plates at Ned’s insistence because they apparently always end up eating each other’s food and plates make this easier. 

“Ok,” Ned says after they’ve gotten situated on the couch, “what do you remember?” 

Peter picks a little at his food as he contemplates how best to explain this. 

“So, I have basic information, like subjects you would learn in school. I still know how math works, still understand scientific concepts, stuff like that. But anything that’s tied too closely with my memories, specifically the Avengers but also my own life, is gone.” He glances at Ned, who’s listening intently, and debates for a moment with himself before he includes, “I got kidnapped last night by aliens that want to take over the world.” 

“So a regular Thursday then.” Ned interjects with a huff of a laugh. 

Peter gives him a sheepish grin before continuing, “They wanted me to tell them everything I knew. That or they were going to take it out of my brain. Or maybe put me into the hive mind? I’m not sure, but whatever they were going to do was going to scramble my brain. So Strange took my memories so they couldn’t have them.” 

Ned’s eyebrows are scrunched together as he asks, “If he knew where you were why not just rescue you? He does portals and Mr. Stark has like a million trackers in your suit! Why didn’t Mr. Stark go get you?!” 

“The aliens are apparently really technologically advanced but they’ve never heard of magic before. As far as portalling me out, I think they were worried it would take too long to undo the restraints before they just shot me or Strange.” Peter shrugs a little at that. “I mean this worked, they let me go.” Ned still looks annoyed but at least relatively accepting of the answer. 

Peter takes a bite as Ned asks, “So when do you get your memories back? Or is this permanent?” 

Peter, shaking his head, replies, “No, not permanent, Strange just doesn’t have time to do the ritual thing right now because he’s dealing with the aliens that kidnapped me. He’ll put them back once it’s over then I should be good as new.” He smiles reassuringly over at Ned and says, “But basically, I’m fine. So you don’t have to worry.” 

It’s Ned’s turn to shake his head as he replies, “I’m always going to worry about you.” Then he smiles over at Peter, “But, you're right that it’s not going to do anything useful right now. So tell me, do you remember any movies?” 

He’s got a glint in his eye that Peter isn’t sure he should be excited about or skeptical of. But Peter is too busy grinning and saying, “Nope.” to really worry too much about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all feedback is welcomed and encouraged 😁 Lemme know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my sappiness, I hope you enjoy 😊

It’s hours later, Nat has come and gone as well as the brilliant movie Ned had suggested watching (Star Wars: A New Hope, apparently he’s a fan). It leaves him and Ned talking on the couch until he gets a video call from their mutual friend MJ. 

She had apparently called to mainly yell at Peter for getting himself kidnapped and magi-zapped (her words). 

“Alright nerds, I'm heading out. I can not be late to  _ another _ date with Gwen because of you two.” 

“Tell her we say hi!” Ned says with a grin. MJ rolls her eyes but she’s smirking which Peter is learning might be just as good as a grin from her 

“And Parker.” she says, Peter raises his eyebrows to show he’s listening. “Try talking to Mr. Stark like a person, would you? Having a crush shouldn’t disqualify you from speaking english but maybe without your memories you’ll be able to be a person around him and not just mushy and weird. Hell, maybe you’ll  _ finally _ ask him out.” 

He feels his brows scrunch together as his head dips down and in a moment of pure, filterless reaction, he responds sulkily, “I thought I was at least _ ok _ at flirting with Tony.” 

There’s silence for a few moments before Peter realizes it’s gotten so quiet and he looks up to find Ned gaping at him and he’d be tempted to say the video call froze if not for the twitch of MJ’s eyebrow every couple seconds. 

He has the dawning sense of horror as he realizes he said that  _ out loud _ and starts, “Guys, -” 

“Ned.” MJ says cutting Peter off as Ned makes a soft noise to illustrate that he’s listening yet still in shock. “I expect a full report after my date.” Another soft noise, this one more affirmative but no less confused. Before Peter can say bye, the call has ended and it leaves him and Ned just staring at one another. 

“So, uh,” Peter starts, peters out, squirms in his seat, then, “Surprise?” 

This grants him a snort from Ned after another few tense moments. 

Peter smiles, a bit timid and a lot hopeful as he asks, “So you’re not mad?” 

It’s Ned’s turn to grin as he shakes his head and answers, “No, not at all. You already told us about your crush on him a long time ago. We just didn’t think you’d ever do anything about it. You’re, well, were always convinced he didn’t see you like that. MJ’s convinced he’s half way in love with you. I just think you should give it a shot. But,” He chuckles a bit and shakes his head disbelievingly before he continues, “You flirted with him. I’d say you were fucking with me but you don’t remeber anything. You wouldn’t even know this was….” He trails off with a wave of his hand as he flops backwards onto the couch. “You’re gonna  _ flip _ when you get your memories back.” 

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, in no way is it appropriate or funny or - “I hear I’m pretty good at flips.” Peter says with a nervous smile. 

Ned rolls his eyes with a grin, starts to laugh and can’t seem to stop, he’s trying to control it but it’s bubbling up and making Peter grin and giggle like mad. 

The conversation wanders from there. 

Ned does most of the talking as he will bring up topics then have to give Peter some background information and sometimes the background info needs background info. Peter doesn’t find that he minds, though. Much like watching a favorite movie for the first time again, he feels like he’s becoming friends with this guy all over and it feels like it must be just as fun as the first time around. 

“So MJ,” Ned says through a laugh, “decides that this is the  _ perfect _ -!” 

“Peter.” Karen cuts in. 

Peter gives Ned an apologetic smile and says, “Yeah, what’s up?” 

“Mr. Stark is requesting entry to come in and retrieve his food. I informed him that he is on your pre-approved list but he insisted I ask your permission .” 

Peter rolls his eyes and responds fondly, “Tell Tony he’s more than welcome to come in or I can go bring it to him if that would be easier.” 

Ned is giving him a mischievous grin and says, “ _ Tony _ ?” Peter feels his face go red, only feeding Ned’s grin. “You call him  _ Tony _ now?” the glee leaking into Ned’s voice. 

Peter has his mouth open to say Lovelace knows what when, “Mr. Stark requests that you bring his food to his apartment and, if you do, and I quote, ‘you’ll be his angel forever’.” 

Peter is going to die. 

Forget aliens or villains or college classes. 

Embarrassment, cause of death, hands down. 

Ned is laughing at him, loud and raucous and full. Peter is blushing, embarrassed to all hell but happy his friend seems simply amused and not upset in any way. 

“Ok, yeah, hahe, yeah, I’m going to take that as my, uh, queue to get going.” Ned says, snorting at the end and gathering his leftovers together and into one of the take out bags. 

“Oh! No, wait, I wasn’t trying to kick you -!” 

“Nah, I know you’re not. Don’t worry about it.” Ned says with a reassuring smile. “Besides, who am I to get in the way of  _ true love _ ?” Ned adds through a laugh. Peter feels his face flush again but can’t help but laugh along and roll his eyes. 

They say their goodbyes, Ned hugging him tight and promising to stay in touch but not freak out if he doesn’t hear back from Peter. He’s very grateful that Ned and MJ seem to be handling this better than May did. He’s not sure he could handle more people he’s supposed to know freaking out at him like that. Soon, Ned is gone and he’s left in his apartment to grab Tony’s food and clothes that he’d borrowed and head to his apartment. 

“Um, Karen?” he asks as he gets into the elevator. 

“Yes, Peter?” 

“Could you take me to Tony please? I don’t know where he lives.” 

“Of course, Peter.” comes the amused answer of the AI. He feels himself blush again as he reins in the urge to bury his face in the clothes in his arms. 

_ Easily flustered _ , he thinks a little miffed with himself,  _ add that to The List, damnit _ . 

The elevator takes him up and it’s not long before the doors are sliding open into a very spacious apartment. It has the same underlying greyscale, sleek, very not-lived-in vibe as Peter’s place but unlike his own apartment, there is no human touch to it. It’s like Tony had taken what must be the standard decor of every apartment and never did much to make it his own. 

Except for pictures. 

There are pictures on the walls and in the book cases and on the little decorative tables. The few that Peter can see from his position three feet from the door are all of the various team members he already knows, barring only one or two faces. 

“Tony?” he calls as he walks in a little more. There’s a muffled noise, then a clang along with a giggled curse. Peter makes his way towards the noises with a smile stretching his lips. “Tony?” he says again as he pokes his head around the corner and into what seems to be a kitchen/dining area. Tony, who’s standing by the stove with a pot, spins around with a lopsided smile. 

“Kid!” he exclaims as he half-tosses the pot onto the stove and flings himself bodily at Peter. He drops the clothes in his arms to catch Tony but manages to keep the food in it’s bag, wrapped around his wrist. 

“H-hey!” Peter says through a startled laugh as he wraps Tony in his arms and takes most of the other man’s weight. 

“You came.” Tony mumbles into his shoulder. 

Peter buries his grin in the older man’s hair as he responds, “Of course I did. You said I’d be your angel forever and I couldn’t pass that up, now, could I?” Tony manages some sort of squeaky grumbling into Peter’s shoulder while wrapping his arms tighter around Peter so he just chuckles and squeezes back in response, leaning against the nearest counter to help him balance. He’s not sure how long they stand there but the tension he didn’t even realize was in Tony’s body starts to slowly melt off and Peter starts to worry that maybe something was wrong. 

“Are you ok?” Peter asks quietly, trying not to startle the other man. 

“‘Course I am.” Tony says as he leans back to smile lazily at Peter, “Why wouldn’t I be?” He feels his nose crinkle as he gets a whiff of the alcohol on Tony’s breath. 

“Maybe because you smell like a bar?” Peter suggests, the worry from earlier creeping into his voice. 

“You’ve smelt worse on me.” 

“That doesn’t make it better?!” Tony laughs a bit as he pulls away from Peter’s arms, grabbing the food as he goes to plop it on the counter next to the stove and the pot. 

“I had two glasses of scotch before you got here.” Tony says as he starts to fumble the food out of the bag with a slight pout, “I’m just not sure why it’s affecting me quite this much.” Peter gently takes the food from the older man while Tony rolls his eyes but smiles and lets him. 

“Well,” Peter says with a thankful grin as Tony hands him a spoon to stir whatever the hell the pot is for, “how much do you drink generally?” Tony snorts and starts walking off. 

“Considerably less with you around, honestly.” 

Peter winces a little and replies reflexively, “Sorry.” 

“No, don’t be. It’s a good thing.” Peter glances up from fiddling with the spoon to find Tony sitting on a stool at the island’s bar, staring into the empty glass sitting there. “It feels bizarre to have to tell you, but…. I’m fairly well known for drinking too much. And partying too much.” a deep sigh leaves the man, as he adds, “And sleeping around too much.” 

The last one makes Peter blush, but he leans onto the counter across from Tony as the other man frowns at the glass like he can intimidate it into giving him answers. Peter doesn’t let himself reach out and stroke the other man’s face like he so desperately wants to. 

Instead, he says, as steady as he can manage, “You never gave me that impression.” 

Tony simply turns his pout to Peter and replies, “You haven’t been around me long enough.” 

Peter raises an eyebrow and counters, “You’ve been there for me through most of this ordeal and I haven’t seen you drink, party, or ‘sleep around’. And usually, when I wasn’t around, you were working.” Tony blinks at the glass a little, then back up at Peter, then back to the glass. 

“Huh.” he looks back up at Peter with a tilt to his head. 

He seems to want to say something but hasn’t quite thought of the words to say it with so Peter cuts in with a little wiggle of the spoon he was given and asks, “So what's this for?” 

Tony blinks a little more, the clicking over of his mind practically audible as he pauses before answering, “You hate using the microwave to heat up stuff when you can use the stove.” It’s Peter’s turn to blink a little before turning back to the food containers, pot, and stove. Two of the containers turn out to be the same thing so he just dumps both into the pot, puts the whole thing on low, and hopes if he stirs it nothing will burn. 

Tony asks him about his day so he talks about visiting with May and Natasha then with Ned and sort of MJ. He’s rambling a bit, he knows he is, but he can’t help it. He feels safe here, happy, warming up food and talking about his day while Tony listens and comments occasionally. 

“Ok, I think this is done? Maybe? Everything feels warm when I poke it.” he says as he licks the remnants from his finger and dumps the food into a bowl. Tony makes a happy noise and grabby hands and Peter laughs as he sets the bowl down and hands the man a fork, mildly concerned that Tony will just dump the whole thing into his mouth if he doesn’t. He starts scarfing the food down as quickly as he can without passing out from lack of oxygen. 

“Damn,” Peter mutters half to himself, “when was the last time you ate?” 

“Had to be breakfast, we always eat breakfast together.” 

“We didn’t eat together this morning.” Tony looks at him confused and Peter says, “Last night, you, uh, you left and then this morning, with May - ” 

Tony snorts loudly, then  _ giggles _ , then starts laughing loudly, with hitching breaths and trilling shrieks as Peter stands there with his heart flipping around in his chest like it had grown wings at the sound of the other man’s happiness.  _ It definitely didn’t do this when Ned laughed _ , Peter thinks to himself a lovesick smile growing on his lips. 

“I think -  _ ha _ \- think that I figured it out!” Tony gasps out between chuckles. Peter tilts his head to the side so Tony continues with, “I haven’t eaten since dinner with the team last night.” Peter is about to worry about that when Tony adds, “And I’ve been drinking a lot less with you around. And the team and the hero-ing. So I guess I’ve just lost a little tolerance for it too.” Tony is smiling back at Peter, just as goofy as his own and they sit there, just starting at each other for a moment or two. 

_ We’re dorks _ , Peter thinks gleefully,  _ we’re massive, weird, crazy, dorks. It’s not even a List thing, it’s just a Fact thing _ . 

Tony ducks his head and gets back to eating with what Peter selfishly wants to call a blush but could also be a flush from the alcohol in the man’s system or from the lack of oxygen while he’s inhaling the food. Peter talks a little more about his day while Tony finishes his food. 

They dump the dishes in the sink and head to the living room where Tony pulls up a show, out of habit it would seem, before looking over to Peter and saying, “Sorry, we always end up watching Star Trek together but we could watch something else if you’d prefer?” 

Peter shakes his head, excited, and says, “No! That’s ok, we can watch whatever you want. Is Star Trek like Star Wars though?” 

Tony grins and replies, “Nope. Let me guess, you and Ned watched Star Wars together?” Peter bobs his head in an enthusiastic nod as Tony settles onto the couch next to him. 

“Ok,  _ long _ story short, Ned’s a Star Wars fan but I’m a Star Trek fan and you are one of the  _ extremely _ weird people that likes both.” Peter smacks Tony with an afronted noise while the other man just laughs. 

Whereas, Star Wars was a collection of movies, Star Trek was a bunch of different tv series. The two were both scifi and set in space for the most part but that’s around where the similarities ended. Both though, in  _ Peter’s _ opinion, were really good. They talk a bit but mostly just relax into the show and the easy company. 

Tipsy Happy Tony melts almost seamlessly into Sleepy Content Tony and it’s only a few episodes in that sees him with his head pillowed on Peter’s shoulder, then his thigh. Slouching into the couch and finally giving in to petting Tony’s hair, Peter figures it’ll be no time before one or both of them are asleep and that maybe he should do something logical about that. Like tell Tony to kick him out and get himself in bed. Peter just can’t seem to summon the will between the honestly cool plot of the episode and the warm relaxation he’s been enveloped in. (And also maybe because Tony’s hair is  _ so soft _ .) 

Peter is honestly a little startled when Tony says quietly still facing the tv, “You asked about Bucky being your brother. And you talked about how Nat and May acted like your moms. You kinda asked what we….are.” Tony squirms a little while still facing the tv, almost like the words unsettle him, so Peter pets him more as Tony asks, even softer, “Did you ever figure it all out?” Peter feels the sleep smile slip onto his face as he cards through Tony’s hair some more and thinks about the question. 

“Yeah, I think I did.” Peter answers in a whisper, “Bucky is a little like a brother. But almost like a younger brother because he’s always about to get into some sort of trouble and he’s always making a bit of a mess. Clint’s like that, too. And they’re always egging each other on.” 

His smile has gone fond, he can feel it, “May and Nat threw me for a loop at first but they’re like my moms I think. May didn’t want to replace my biological mom, didn’t want me calling  _ her _ mom, I think. Which probably really helped me when I was little. But she’s my mom at this point, I can feel it. Natasha, too, I think. She saw that I could handle all  _ this _ ,” a twitch of his hand is as far as he really gets with an encompassing gesture, “if I had a little help, so she helped. Maybe it was an obligation thing?” The question is more to himself than anything else, but Tony’s soft, disagreeing noise has him agreeing silently and patting Tony’s head in acceptance, but moving on nonetheless. 

“Steve is a little like an older brother. To everyone, or maybe more like an uncle who’s just really involved? Less responsible than a dad cuz Bucky and Clint can talk him into stuff. And then -” 

A soft snore has Peter pausing and looking down from the middle distance he’d been in before. Tony was dead to the world, sleeping sprawled out on the couch, using Peter’s thigh as a pillow, drooling a little as the tv flickered and droned on quietly. 

“And then there’s you.” Peter says, even softer than before as he scratches lightly at the older man’s scalp, letting his smile go a little adoring and watery, “You  _ care _ . So much. And you knew so much about me, no doubt in your mind most of the time. You were kind and calm when I needed you to be. Even though you must have been freaking out so much. You aren’t a mentor, like you said, we went past that. You aren’t a dad either, we act too much like equals for that. It’s like friends but….” Peter feels himself fading fast as he lets his head lean back onto the back of the couch, the perfect place to sleep at the moment. 

“I think you might mean everything to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like the sap? Or was there too much sap? 😅


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do y'all think about some action? 😏

The shrieking is deafening and Peter has his hands clamped to his ears and is curling around his head in an instant. 

“Friday! Shut it down!” comes through, muffled but distinct amongst the blaring alarms. They shut off almost instantly. Peter is struggling to breath, likely because he’s compressed himself into the tightest possible ball at the shrieking noises that woke him. 

Gentle hands softly pry one hand from one ear and, “You’re ok, Peter, you’re ok.” He registers that it’s Tony speaking to him, worried but coaxing and calm. Peter lets him, gets himself sitting up and looking around for whatever the hell the alarm was for. “You ok, underoos?” 

Peter nods and opens his mouth to ask something, anything but - “Good. That was the Avenger’s alarm. I have to leave.” and then Tony is leaving, running. 

Gone. 

Peter sits and blinks and processes for a moment before - 

_Fuck!_

He’s on his feet in an instant running as hard and as fast as he can manage to make himself go. He catches up to Tony on the roof, suit flowing up his body - “Wait!” Peter yells and Tony whips around, the helmet pausing in its formation around his head. 

“Peter I can’t not -'' 

Peter flaps one hand at Tony as he latches on to the older man’s arm with his other, because that’s not it, - “Take me with you. I can help! I can’t sit here - ” 

“No, _no_! Absolutely not! You don’t know most of what your suit does much less - !” 

“I can’t just _not_ help when I have these powers! I’m not _useless_ , I can - !” 

“ _Peter_!” 

For the first time, Peter registers the amount of fear in Tony’s voice. He’s clutching Peter’s shoulders, almost to the point of pain and the concern is palpable. 

“Promise you won’t follow me.” Tony begs. 

Peter feels his heart breaking because, “I can’t! You know I - ” 

“ _Please_ , Peter.” Tony implores as he slides his grip from Peter’s shoulders’ to either side of his neck, “ _Please_.” 

Tony is gripping his face, cheeks in his palms, holding him firmly and cautiously with metalic, shaky digits. Peter knows, _knows_ , deep in his bones with a conviction he has never felt, or at least not within the last few days of his life. 

He knows that Tony is only looking out for him. 

And because of this he replies, “Ok.” 

Tony looks utterly shocked at the fact that he is complying but he doesn’t look ready to look the gift horse in the mouth. He’s nodding with a triumphant spark in his eye and cautious smile on his face and Peter - 

Peter kisses him, sound on the mouth, with all the conviction he feels from Tony. 

With all the conviction he feels _for_ Tony. 

Tony whimpers as Peter’s hands find either side of his face, his beard scratching, rough against his palms. It feels like _fire_ , it feels like _flying_ , it feels like _a punch to the gut_ and _the air sucked out of his lungs and_ \- ! 

“Boss, Captain Rogers is asking for your ETA.” Friday chimes in and Tony breaks the kiss in a startled motion, with a squeak. 

They stare, blink, blushing and grinning like mad. 

“You just -” 

“Yeah.” 

“We’ve never - ” 

“I assumed.” 

“ _Kid_ , you _can’t_ just - !” 

Peter kisses Tony’s nose, quick with a grin and says, “Just did.” There’s a heat in Tony’s eyes that sends a shiver down his spine at the fire it lights in his stomach. 

“I - ” 

“Boss, Captain - ” 

“Tell Steve he’ll be there in five.” Peter says to Friday then locks eyes with Tony again and says, simply, “Come back alive or I’m threatening Strange into getting you back from the dead.” Peter hopes that the fear and anxiety and hope don’t all show through in his voice and his face because if Tony could tell even half of what he’s feeling he’d never give him a chance, he’s sure of it. 

He makes to step back, away from Tony so he can take off to fight a battle Peter can’t have his back in, not this time. 

He doesn’t get far. 

Tony surges forward, kissing Peter hard and stealing all his breath in an instant. Unfortunately, it’s no more than an instant, maybe two. 

“I’ll always come back for you, sweetheart.” Tony says with a cocky grin, then starts walking backwards towards the edge of the roof. “Baby girl, tell Roger’s I’ll be there in two.” and he steps back, off the roof, falling down and back with a smirk. 

And he’s gone. 

There’s a scream clawing up Peter’s throat as he runs towards the edge of the roof and _nononononono_ \- 

_Vroosh_! 

Tony, in full Iron Man armor, shoots up and away, turning quickly, presumably in the direction of the fight. Peter near collapses against the low edge of the roof, heart in his throat but a light smile on his face. 

Infuriatingly fond, falls hard and fast, terribly horribly thoroughly in love. 

_Too many things to add to The List_ , Peter thinks as he makes a vain attempt to catch his breath. 

_Breath Stealer, add that to Tony’s List_.

***

Peter paces when he’s nervous, something else to add to The List. 

Peter is in the large common room, pacing over and around the couches and walls and ceiling as he watches the fight from various cameras he may or may not have hacked around the city. It’s not that big of a deal he figures since as the fight moves the cameras keep going down with it. He’s not sure if the cameras are being taken out by the fight or if the aliens they’re fighting are messing with the tech. He’s asked Friday for comms or any camera feeds that may be attached to anyone’s suits but she said she can’t access them. He’s not sure if she means they’re down entirely or he doesn’t have access and he’s honestly a little worried to ask. 

“Incoming call.” Friday states before she pipes in what must be the call based on the amount of wind. 

“Hey, Pete, you there?!” comes a shout from the other end of what must be the call he’s now on. 

“Yeah, Bucky, I’m here.” he replies as he drops to the ground in a crouch from his pause on the ceiling. 

“Get your ass over here, we need backup and extra genius.” It’s gruff and stated in an annoyed, casually authoritative tone. 

He’s expecting immediate and complete compliance but, “Tony told me to stay here. I don’t remem - ” 

There’s a deep growl and a couple of loud pops that Peter belatedly realizes must be gunfire when Bucky just grits out, “I told you! There’s plenty ‘a you left in your head! I’d know! Now get your brain and your ass ou- h-re -for- !” 

The connection is dropped just before the very loud static becomes too much, though Peter is still left wincing at the cacophony. 

“F-friday?! Get Bucky back on the line!” 

There’s a series of beeps that don’t sound encouraging before - “I cannot reconnect with Mr. Barnes’ comms.” Friday says and Peter begins to, well, _freak the hell out_. 

Tony told him to stay and Barnes told him to go help and he’s only had _one_ round of training (one and a half if you could flirting with Tony after fighting Steve). He’s not qualified to do this, he’s not qualified for any of this, he’s not a superhero, he can’t ju- 

_Wait!_ he thinks as his breath hitches in his chest and he draws himself up from where he’d half collapsed against the couch. _I_ **_am_ ** _a superhero_ , he thinks, staring at a picture of Spider-Man and Iron Man standing next to each other, posing for the goofy picture. 

“Not _just_ Spider-Man.” Peter mutters as he gets to his feet, “Me. I’m a superhero. I’m Spider-Man!” He’s shouting by the end of it and launching himself down the hall at a full run. “Karen! Where’s my - ?!” 

“Your suit is in the lab, fully repaired and ready for you.” He hits the back of the elevator with a breathless laugh, his legs nearly buckling from the speed the elevator takes him to the lab at. 

“Ok,” Peter huffs, “I deserve that.” The doors are opening before he can really examine the noise he heard, which sounded an awful lot like a smug hum from Karen’s speakers. 

“Suit?” 

“Table, on the left.” he starts stripping, tossing his clothes off efficiently, as he crosses the lab. Karen walks him through the spider emblem tightening the whole thing down to a second skin. 

“Web-thingies?” 

“Built into the suit.” This gives Peter a moment of pause. 

“How much of the suit is going to be unusable if what happened to it the night I got kidnapped happens again?” 

“The whole Heads Up Display, the web-shooters, and the comms.” 

“So most of it, ok, can I make the shooters manual quickly?” 

“No, but you do have your original shooters in your room which are purely mechanical. The reloads for the newer shooters will work but will not be automatic.” 

“Perfect!” Peter half shouts as he runs for the elevator, swiping a ton of reloads and shoving them into a pocket Karen points out to him on the way up. 

He grabs the shooter, tests them, freaking out at the fact that they’re _so cool_ and _he made them_ , before, “Ok. Ok! Ok, Karen, open the window.” 

He’s running for the window near the dining table as Karen chimes in, “Peter, perhaps you should start with something - ” 

“It’s now or never. Besides - ” Peter’s breath is ripped from him briefly as he jumps and free falls out of the window. The Tower rushes by in a sparkling display of glass and speed, the ground coming up, slow for now but speeding up, the wind screaming in his ears - 

And then he feels it. 

The vibration, the tingle up his spine and through his body and then - 

And then he _knows_. 

He flings an arm out, hitting the trigger on the web-shooter, waiting heart-pounding moments before the catch draws his arm taunt and he swings, _no_ \- 

_He flies!_

Peter lets out a shriek of joy before finishing, “Besides, it’s all in the wrist, right?!” 

***

The fight is _insane_. 

Peter loses all electronics almost as soon as he begins to hear the sounds of the fight. He finds the fringes of it where Bucky is shooting the aliens with his metal arm limp at his side, his flesh hand squeezing the trigger with a clip between his teeth. 

Peter swings in and webs down several aliens before trying to go over the Buck to give him a hand ( _ha!_ ). Bucky intercepts him with a harsh look and a violent grunt in the direction of the street going north. Peter stops dead in his tracks (the man is terrifying like this, such a contrast to the man he had hung out with before) before gesturing awkwardly in the direction the other man had nodded in. Bucky grunts again, then starts pointing his gun and shooting the aliens, presumably in vital areas based on the screeching. 

Peter swings away quickly. 

The next people he stumbles on are Steve, Clint, and Natasha. Clint is shooting from a nearby roof, covering the other two. Natasha has a large metal pipe she’s swinging wildly as well as a few arrows tucked into her uniform that she occasionally whips out to stab an alien or two with. Steve is throwing his shield and barking orders, a familiar scene from the videos Steve himself had shown him earlier. Peter tries to help where he can, fighting the ones he thinks he can take while webbing down anything he figures he can’t. 

_These are really damn useful_ , Peter thinks as he reloads a shooter while mid-swing, _can’t believe I came up with this_. 

“Spider-Man! What the hell are you doing here!” Steve yells from the street below as Peter swings in to kick an alien that was about to land a hit on Steve. 

“Bucky said you needed back up!” he yells back, webbing another alien down before dropping in next to Steve. “If you tell me whe - ” 

“You need to go back to the Tower _now_! You still don’t - !” 

“Steve!” Everyone turns toward the angry shout further up the street to find a rather pissed looking Bucky. Steve has his jaw set while Bucky's whole frame looks set to kill, other than the idly swinging metal arm at his side. Clint looks confused but on guard while Natasha looks tired but resigned. 

Peter’s eyes catch on her as she approaches him while Steve and Bucky look ready to collide volitally and Clint looks like he might try to do something about that. 

“паучок,” she says as she catches on to his arms, hand slipping down to his own to grip it tightly, “Tony was south west from here before we got separated. Find him. Help him figure this out.” Peter blinks a little, looking between the large, arguing, supersoldiers and the tired spy in front of him. Natasha grabs his chin lightly and shifts his gaze back to her. “Go while they’re distracted.” she says then, hesitantly, delicately, brushes his cheek, looking for the first time that he can remember like she’s got more on her plate than she can take. 

“Thank you.” he says, squeezing her hand for a moment then - 

“Love you,” Peter says quickly, webbing himself away before he can over analyze the shocked but not unhappy look on her face. 

_I mean, that’s what you say when you’re leaving your sudo-mom to deal with you sudo-uncles/brothers so that you can ‘sneak’ off and help your maybe-boyfriend fight the aliens that kidnapped you a few days ago, right?_

Right. 

Peter is really starting to doubt his life choices that he can’t remember. 

Finding the middle of the fight isn’t as hard as he thought it might be. He’s swung maybe thirty seconds in the direction Natasha pointed him in, dodging clumps of shooting aliens and avoiding buildings, before he starts to hear a variety of fizzing, zappy noises. Aiming for the direction of the non-lazer gun noises and webbing down any alien he can manage to web down, he gets to the main fight in less than a minute. 

He pauses for the moment on a rooftop just staring for a moment at the sheer amount of Stranges that are fighting. 

_Is he a clone?! Are all wizards just clones of this one guy?!_

He debates trying to talk to one or two of the Stranges but decides against it when he spots the Iron Man suit, standing stock-still in the middle of the battle. Peter swings over, faster than he thought he knew how. He lands lightly on the suit’s shoulders, standing on them for the vantage point and continuing to web down aliens. The front of the suit, to Peter’s surprise, is completely open and the hands of the suit seem to have been taken off. Maybe cut off, possibly torn off, Peter doesn’t have the time to examine it properly. 

He’s about to swing off again, to find a Strange to harass into telling him what the hell is going on or maybe just pick a place and start fighting until someone tells him otherwise when - 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” 

His head whips around so fast that he almost loses his balance on his perch. 

“Tony!” Peter shouts and swings himself over to him. Meanwhile, Tony is shooting at the aliens with what looks like modified versions of his Iron Man suit’s hands. Which apparently shoot energy pulses of some kind. 

_Sooooooo cool!_

“Why does your tech work?!” Peter exclaims as he lands next to Tony and starts webbing up aliens so Tony can knock them out more easily. 

“I’ll answer yours if you answer mine, kid.” Peter rolls his eyes and webs an alien trying to flank them from further down the alley, making sure to toss it into Tony’s field of vision before turning so that they’re back to back. 

“Well, Mr. Stark, I came because Bucky called and said you needed my ass and my brain out here, _so_ ,” Peter hooks Mr. Stark around his middle and swings them both onto a nearby roof top so they don’t get overrun by a swarm of enemies. He plops the older man on his feet and lands a few feet away, flinging his arms wide and finishing, “I can either be an ass or I can use my brains. Your choice, _sir_!” 

Tony has the good sense to at least look contrite, but as he opens his mouth to reply, the building shakes as if it was hit. A quick look over the side reveals a lot of aliens scaling the side of the building while a glance at the violently bending door to the roof makes Peter think that here might not be too safe for much longer. 

Tony lands a hand on Peter’s shoulder and quickly replies, “Brains.” before starting to shoot down at the scaling aliens. 

“Cool!” Peter half shouts with a grin as he shimmies his way in front of Tony, sticking the other man to his back before he jumps off the roof to swing away. 

Tony seems, “What the _hell_ Peter, I said brains, _brains_ ! _Not ass_!” tense. 

“But I thought -” Peter starts, cutting himself off as he corrects their trajectory after Tony fires off a couple of energy pulses. “But I thought you liked my ass!” he finishes, turning a corner a little sharply, avoiding a flying (floating?) Strange and angling them back toward the part of the team he had found earlier. 

  
Something along the lines of _brat_ may have been muttered but Peter figures it was meant with love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What kind of action did you THINK I meant?! 😂😂😂
> 
> I'm quite sorry I didn't update yesterday. There was a big storm over here and it knocked out power for a while, but more specifically our internet. It didn't come back till literally a few minutes ago 😅 Please forgive me. (And send me some luck for fixing my fence.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I totally spaced last night 😅
> 
> Also, the lovely MeMMA correctly my Russian in the last chapter (which has already been corrected throughout the story by this point). Please thank them and send some positive vibes their way 😁

Steve, Buck, Natasha, and Clint seemed to have stopped fighting about Peter and started fighting the aliens. They’re in a vague circle in an intersection with a Strange floating above the glowing green hole punched into the middle of the road. 

“Why is it always  _ glowing _ ? There’s no functional point to the glow!” Tony complains as they swing in close. Peter drops Tony next to Steve and takes over Steve’s place in the loose circle of defense, trying not to be dead weight. He doesn’t catch the whole conversation and certainly doesn’t have some of the details, but from what he can tell, the hole in the ground leads to the aliens somehow and the team has a wizard named Wong in there trying to fuck shit up enough that the aliens leave the planet. 

Or something. 

“Pete, swap with me!” Steve shouts from behind Peter. 

“Alright!” Peter shouts back as he jumps, backflipping up and over Steve. 

As Steve rushes in to take his spot he lands where Steve was standing, “Here.”, apparently right next to Tony. Peter takes the jumble of wire and metal that has been shoved into his hands with all the care of a bumbling idiot. Then Tony sticks his hand into Peter’s suit on his  _ thigh _ and - 

“ _ Hey! _ ” Peter shrieks as Tony extracts a small case,  _ what the fuck _ ? 

“Stop yelling, I had my tongue on your lips earlier. Touching your thigh isn’t much more than that.” Peter rolls his eyes and just lightly smacks Tony’s arm as he grabs at the case that came out of his own suit. 

“Do you need the glove -?” 

“Yeah let me just - kinda….oh!” 

“So you put the wire - ” 

“No, yeah, got it got it got it.” 

“You sure? I can just -” 

“Tony, I got this just go - ” 

“Are we all just going to ignore that last comment!?” Clint yells, half hysteric half ecstatic, as he shoots an alien in the shoulder and fast solidifying foam envelopes the creature. Tony makes a choked noise while Peter just raises an eyebrow between the two, trying to sort out the interpersonal context while also modifying the weapon in his hands. 

“Clint,” Natasha says as she stalks around the hole toward them, Peter clicking the panelling back into place on the weapon while Clint glances back toward her voice. “Not the time.” she states as she plucks the thing from Peter’s hand, slips it over her hand, and punches the alien just behind Clint hard and with what was likely several times the voltage of a stun gun. 

Clint takes off at a jog to go cover Natasha’s former place in the circle muttering, “Fuck, she’s pissed.” then something about patching up that was lost to Peter as he was handed another weapon to reconfigure. 

_ People issues later, alien issues now _ Peter thinks worriedly as he hurries to fix what’s in his hands. It doesn’t take long before he’s tossing the arrow to Clint with a shout. He fixes three more arrows and the pair to Natasha’s electro-bracelet before he’s called over by Tony who’s been working on a scrap metal disaster with bits of cannibalised Iron Man armor sprinkled in, too. 

“How did you get - ?!” 

“No questions! Only helping!” Tony says, brandishing a spanner he had gotten from Newton knows where. 

“Helping do what?!” Peter asks, mildly panicked as sparks are thrown and Tony’s head, encased in the Iron Man helmet, pops up from the other side of the metal dumpster fire. 

Tony cocks his head to one side then, “Good question!” he exclaims before disappearing back into the pile. But… as Peter looks at the pile, he realizes something. 

It’s not just a pile. It’s - ! 

“Yes! It clicked, didn’t it!? I can see it on your face!” Tony says from right next to Peter, mask up, grin manic. 

“Your making - ?!” 

“Yes.” 

“But the blow back - !” 

“Wizards.” 

“They can - ?” 

“That’s what they tell me.” 

“That’s not reassuring.” 

“Yeah. You got something better?”

Peter grins a little as he starts digging into the disaster clump and responds, “A better idea than you, Tony? Never.” 

Tony isn’t quick enough pulling down his helmet to hide the bright red covering his cheeks or the heat in his eyes. But then, if Peter wasn’t wearing his mask, he’d match the red of his suit, so who is he to judge?

***

“Stark, we only have - !”

“Done!” Peter and Tony pipe up at the same time from separate ends of their creation as Steve and a Strange come over. 

“You finished the device?” the Strange asks, as he floats down from above, standing next to a disheveled Captain. 

Tony slaps a hand onto it cluster fuck of wires and steel and responds, “This bad boy can zap so much alien tech.” 

He’s making a face like the others should be laughing at that. 

“Wait,” Tony asks, confused now and looking at Peter, “that’s the meme thing right? Didn’t I do that right?” Steve still looks confused while the Strange just rolls his eyes and sighs. 

Peter just shrugs and asks, “What’s a meme?” 

Tony looks appalled and Peter is about to apologize for whatever he did but they’re both snapped from their thoughts when, “Ok, enough flirting, more zapping the alien tech!” Clint shouts, followed by a very loud shriek from several of the aliens all around them. 

A vibration runs itself all the way from Peter’s toes to the top of his skull, and maybe even into his hair. 

“Now.” he says, breathy and panicked and feeling far too much. 

Tony lays a hand on his shoulder as the other’s ready themselves, the aliens rattling and hissing around them. 

Peter lays a hand over Tony’s and says, “We need to do it  _ now _ .” 

Tony nods running to their device as Peter goes to help fight the new flood of aliens with the others. It’s all a blur of movement and hits and brain melting screams before there is a high pitch tone that doubles most of them over before - 

_ BOOM! _

There is less force and general explosion than what Peter had mentally calculated there should be so the wizard(s) must have done something but - 

“ _ Tony! _ ” 

\- not enough. 

Peter is yelling and limping through the rubble. He is aware that he is screaming but he only hears the muffled feedback in his own head as his ears are Not Ok. He continues to limp and scream and occasionally rummage through the rubble until - 

Until he finds a hand. 

It’s dripping blood and still as stone but it’s  _ there _ . 

Peter starts to calculate. 

He looks around as much as he can and tries to be as careful as he can when he starts to shift things but he knows that the team evacuated the area before starting the drop-the-metal-disaster-in-a-hole-and-turn-it-on-and-see-what-happens. And he  _ needs _ to know if Tony’s ok. He shifts and digs, excavating as quickly and safely as possible and praying to anything he can the whole time he does it. 

“Queens?” 

Steve is crouched over Tony, covering most of his body with his shield on his back to protect the both of them the best that he could. 

“Cap.” Peter breaths out, labored and arduous as he lifts a very large slab of debris up and off and  _ away _ . 

Steve helps him lift Tony gently from the rubble and over to a more flat piece of ground. Checking Tony over they figure out that there is really nothing either of them can do but that he doesn’t seem to be bleeding heavily from anywhere. 

_ At least not externally _ , Peter thinks morbidly as he pets through Tony’s hair. 

“You stay with him.”, Steve says as he stands from his crouch next to the two of them, “I need to find the others and get help for you two.” 

“I’m fine -” 

“I know what you look like with broken ribs and a bum leg, Queens.” Steve counters, gently. Peter’s brows furrow, but he shrugs easily enough before Steve leaves them. 

Peter just keeps petting Tony’s hair. 

_ You have to come back, Tony. You said you’d always come back to me. Please, please, god, please, come back to me. _

***

They were picked up at some point. 

With people milling around like ants, Peter was having a hard time focusing on anything except petting through Tony’s hair so it was hard for him to really think of a timeline. 

He was asked many times if he needed medical care and he always directed them back to Tony until they were separated and Natasha came to his recovery room to check him out herself. She didn’t ask him anything, just poked and prodded him until she had gathered enough information from his wincing and whines. 

She may have asked him more questions and poked him less if he hadn’t been entirely focused on Tony’s smart glasses. Hell, she may have asked him something and he just never heard her, he couldn’t say for sure. Peter had been handed the glasses by a nurse who seemed to think this was a normal occurrence so he took them without a fuss. Back at the Tower, his suit worked to what he would assume was it’s full capacity. Left to his own devices in his recovery room with no news on Tony, he used the diagnostics on his suit, the schematics of the glasses that Karen got for him, and his own knowledge to fix the glasses. 

It wasn’t until a hand was laid on the glasses in his hands that he looked up and blinked back into reality. 

“Peter,” says a Strange, battered and scratched from the fight, as he very gently tries to pry the glasses from Peter’s hands, “I’d like to give you your memories back now.”

Peter’s hands twitch on the glasses as he looks at Strange and tries to figure out how to respond, with words, like the human he’s been told he is. 

Natasha appears to place her hand over theirs and the glasses as she says, “Let him keep the glasses? If it won’t mess up your magic?”

Strange looks between the two of them as Peter stares blankly at the sliver of the glasses he can still see, that he’s still clutching, before, “Alright, it should be fine. Help me have him lay down?” 

They get him horizontal through a little coaxing and a lot of knock-out drugs and before he really knows it, Peter is asleep and dreaming of little robots and plants and kissing. 

And blood.

***

Peter wakes up to fluorescent lighting, dull aches, and the feeling of being watched. 

He struggles to get his limbs cooperating as a stiffness seems to have settled into every muscle in his body and his eyes are heavy with sleep, maybe drugs. 

“Careful,  паучок . You may have healed from the fight, but you’ve been through a lot.” 

For some reason Tasha calling him  паучок is what really makes it all hit. 

The memory loss, the wandering around lost, find the Tower and Mr. Stark, the others messing with him and Mr. Stark caring for him and scaring May and - 

_ I kissed Mr. Stark _ , Peter thinks in a daze. 

His eyes widen as reality crashes in on him and - 

_ I called him  _ **_Tony_ ** . 

“Based on that face I’d say you remember everything now.” Tasha says, a hint of humor in her tone. 

Peter raises his head, remembering and says, “I’m sorry. I know I probably scared you a bit.” Her slight smirk turns fond as she makes her way to the chair next to his bed to sit next to him and takes his hand. 

“Wasn’t your fault.” 

“Is everyone ok from the fight?” 

“Yeah, the worst injuries were you and Tony. He was awake and harassing everyone only a few hours after you went under the magical memory knife.” He squints at her as she smirks at him. He’s fine with the poking at his expense. It was also very likely that Tony was just fine since Steve had managed to protect him after he was knocked out and the helmet had likely protected him from the worst of the hit to the head. 

And Tasha was never one to sugarcoat injuries. 

What he’s really worried about is, “You’re ok? Pinkie swear?” 

She rolls her eyes but her smile twitches just the slightest bit wider as she asks, “Wanna pat me down?” He smiles at her and lets the tension drain from him a little, she never offers a pat down unless she’s fine. 

She still hooks his pinkie with hers and shakes their hands lightly. Her version of ‘yeah I’m fine’ for Peter. 

He’s trying to work himself up to moving or work himself up to actually facing what he’d done over the past few days when Tasha says, 

“So, Tony?” 

_ I died _ , Peter thinks to himself,  _ I died in the fight, all of this has been a drawn out hallucination, and now I’m in hell for my sins and crimes _ . 

“Come on, you know I’ll just beat it out of you later, when you get cleared for it.” she adds. He would say she was joking, but he knows better than to take Tasha’s threats as anything close to lightly. 

“I just,” he sighs a little tired of his own stupidity, “I was just stupid and I wasn’t myself. I couldn’t remember anything and I just thought - ” Peter cuts himself off and rolls his eyes with a huff. 

Neither of them say anything for a moment or two before Tasha says, “You were still you.” She says it quietly but no less sure of herself. Peter looks at her, more than a little lost and she seems to see that, or something else, something deeper, because she just squeezes Peter’s hand before letting it go, saying, “Don’t doubt yourself so much, May taught you better than that.” 

She leans down to kiss his forehead as she presses something cold into his hand before she turns and walks out of the room on silent feet with a glint in her eyes that Peter didn’t know how to feel about. 

As soon as she’s out of sight he looks at what she placed in his hand and - oh. 

It’s Tony’s glasses. 

One lense is cracked while the other is simply gone entirely, but as he checks over the wiring and some of the components, he finds that he fixed a fair amount while he was in his post-fight daze. He had been pretty badly banged up and could only half hear anything, so his memories are fuzzy at best. Still, even without his memories, he seemed to do a pretty good job. 

Tasha’s words echo in his head as he stares down at the glasses. 

“Hey, Karen?” Peter says, still staring at the glasses. 

“Yes, Peter. How are you feeling?” He smiles and glances at the nearest camera. 

“I’m doing alright, thank you.” 

His brow furrows as her voice reminds him, “I’m sorry I kept interrupting you, I know you hate that.” 

“It’s ok, Peter.” she says with what he imagines must be a smile in her voice, “Besides, I believe I got you back, didn’t I?” 

He smiles a little more as he focuses back in on the glasses in his hands, “Yeah, you got me.” 

_ I told you! There’s plenty ‘a you left in your head! I’d know! _

There’s a knock on the door, or rather the frame, as something a little like weak repulsors fires and - 

“Leaf?! What are you doing out of the lab, you little - ?!” The ‘bot’s arms are wound around his neck in no time, clicking and chattering at him angrily as he chuckles and mutters, “Little snuggle demon, that’s what you are.” He’s petting the little ‘bot, reassuring them the best he can when a throat is cleared at the other end of the room. 

He looks up and holds Leaf close before he realizes, “Mr. Stark.” he breathes out. The other man is leaning against the door frame, looking a little worse for wear. There’s a bandage or two on his face, one on his jaw and another on his forehead, plus a few scraps on his hands and arms. Tony - Mr. Stark - looks, first surprised, disappointed, then, “So I take it you didn’t mean much from the last few days, huh?” It’s self-deprecating and closed up tight, all at once. 

_ Try talking to Mr. Stark like a person, would you? Having a crush shouldn’t disqualify you from speaking english but maybe without your memories you’ll be able to be a person around him and not just mushy and weird. Hell, maybe you’ll finally ask him out _ . 

He plucks up his courage and quips back in a slightly shaky voice, “S-so I take it you w-would prefer Tony?” The older man’s eyes glance up from their intense observation of the floor, blinking at Peter, shocked as ever. This gives Peter a little more confidence as he stretches out a hand to make grabby hands at Tony while still cradling the little ‘bot in his arms. Mr. Sta - no, Tony - smiles a little through his shock and walks over to Peter’s bed side cautiously. 

He sits in the chair next to his bed and Peter tries to breathe evenly as threads the fingers of his free hand through Tony’s that’s laying on the bed next to him. 

“Do you know how I came up with the name Leaf for this little guy?” Peter asks, tremor in his voice and in his hands. Tony smiles, a little confused but holds his hand firmly, warmly. 

“How?” he asks, a little excited, a little careful. 

Peter grins, more sure, saying, “I just liked the name.” 

Tony scoffs but it betrays the little laugh that it really is as he settles fully into the chair, though not daring to loosen his grip on Peter’s hand. Peter lets himself chuckle a little at that, stroking his thumb over Tony’s hand in his and petting Leaf as the ‘bot wiggles itself free and rolls a little on the bed, exploring their new environment. 

“But I gave them a little acronym, just like you do.” Peter murmurs, focusing on the ‘bot instead of looking over at Tony like he knows the older man is looking at him. Leaf is pinching the sheet gently between their grabber hand claws and he finishes, “ Lab Environment Allocation Filler, L.E.A.F.” 

Tony chuckles again, but Peter is busy calling over Leaf and getting their front panel open to reveal, “Oh.” Tony says. Peter presents him the seedling in a pot that dwarfs it, but that it will soon grow into. 

“I’m working on making a rugged plant that’s bioluminescent, matures quickly, and cleans the air efficiently. Different varieties would be good in different places but basically it could help to replace street lamps and help with light pollution, especially in more rural areas. He looks up at Tony to find the other man already looking at him with too many emotions for him to really understand. 

“Why are you showing me this now?” Tony asks, the implied ‘why didn’t you show me this sooner?’ ringing loud in clear between his words. 

_Another thing for The List of Things I Know Now:_ _I’m maybe a little bit in love with Tony Stark_. 

Peter smiles, a little goofy and a lot desperate as he holds Tony’s hand a little tighter. 

“Yeah, I, uh,” he swallows roughly before he can continue, “I just kept thinking, if I could make this perfect, maybe you wouldn’t see me as so much of a kid anymore.” Tony still looks shocked and a little disbelieving which just makes Peter doubt just about every interaction, every thought that there could be more. 

He’s about to say something,  _ anything _ , to break the awkward feeling that’s clawing at the bottom of his lungs when, “You thought you had to go through all this just to get me to see you?” Tony is staring into his eyes, looking at Peter with a heat that he can feel echoed in his guts but there’s a warmth there, too, burying itself into Peter’s heart. 

_ I - My name is Tony Stark. As far as I know, I’m the only Tony you know. And you’re right it does mean something. It means I’m going to fix this. And I promise I won’t stop until I do. _

Peter feels a giggle bubble up from his chest, saying, “If I knew I just had to lose all of my memories to get you to see me then I would’ve tried that first, trust me.” 

Tony laughs at that and, Lovelace and Newton and all the stars above, that is a gorgeous sound. It spreads through him with an easy hot chocolate comfort and he keeps it up with, “I’m serious! It's hard to get the plants to cooperate with anything, there’s a reason I had to build Leaf. They’re fussy and like to lose their leaves at the most - ” 

“ _ Peter _ ,” Tony implores, good natured, still laughing, but insistent nonetheless. He’s leaning in and Peter is having a hard time catching his breath, nothing to do with the broken ribs, he’s sure of it. “Peter,” Tony says again, fond and heated and closer than ever, “did,” The breath he huffs out, annoyed at his own nerves, fans across Peter’s face and he leans into that air, just a little. “did you mean what you said? On the couch, last night - well not last night - but - ”

_ Let go, Pete. I’ll catch you. _

_ Had to be breakfast, we always eat breakfast together. _

_ I’ll always come back for you, sweetheart. _

_ Don’t doubt yourself so much, May taught you better than that. _

“I think you might mean everything to me.” 

Tony smiles at Peter’s words, said more confidently than Peter currently feels in his own skin, hot and flushed and  _ wanting _ . 

The older man leans in a little further, resting their foreheads together, bandages to skin, and asks, “Yeah. Did you mean that?” 

Peter raises a hand, softly, gently stroking the other man’s face, avoiding abrasion as best as he can as he replies, “Yeah. More than anything, Tony, yeah.” He’s grinning, giddy and blushing and _ happy _ \- “I said it didn’t I?” Tony chuckles, Peter giggles, closing his eyes, relishing the warmth of the moment. Tony’s breath fanning over his face and Tony’s hand pressed into his and Tony’s weight dipping the mattress, just  _ a little _ , just  _ enough _ \- 

Kissing Tony again is like swinging through his city for the first-second time, dropping and dropping and dropping until the catch and  _ flying _ . 

And he’s every bit as breathless by the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I felt like the story I had write, to get out of my head, naturally ended. I ended up writing an epilogue because, although as a writer I felt the story was done, as a reader I would have hated the author if it just ended there 😅 So there's the 10th chapter and then another one after that as I have a problem with endings. Honestly the last on (chapter 11) might be a while as I'm still writing it. But! There you go! My plan laid out 😄


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I've added another chapter 😁 Not much starker in this but I wrapped up the other stuff so that's ok, right?

Much to Tony’s annoyance and Peter’s resigned acceptance, Tony has to leave on a business trip early the day after their first kiss. 

For about a week. 

They only get a few hours together before the two of them are in desperate need of food and sleep so that they can both be ready for the next day. Tony had business people to deal with while Peter had begrudging college professors and piles of homework. They promise to keep in touch, if sporadically, and to have a real discussion about dating (at Tony’s insistence) and probably going out on one (at Peter’s insistent begging). But homework and studying are not the only things on Peter’s agenda, especially while Tony is away.

In fact, after classes on Tuesday morning, Peter heads back to the Tower and catches up on all of his college classes, everything he missed while magically amnesiac-ed then physically injured. It’s not terribly hard, he’s used to it between Spider-Man and the occasional Avenger’s call out. 

But out on patrol is when he really starts plotting out his List. 

_ The New List _ , he thinks to himself fondly as he swings through a quiet area of the city. His weird family had done so much for him while he didn’t know anything. He’s aware he doesn’t need to repay them, he knows that, but…. 

Look, he likes to do nice things for people. 

Especially those he loves. 

Besides, this is the perfect opportunity to set a couple things straight, too. 

***

He starts with what he’s fully aware is the easiest. 

He had made it right before going out on patrol and drops it off at the Sanctum, swinging away without much fanfare. What shocks him is that it’s only an hour before he gets a call. 

“Peter, what is this.” comes Strange’s unamused tone from the other end of the line. 

“Hey, I’m doing pretty good after getting slammed into a building, how are you? Are you all healed up from that fight we were in two days ago?” 

There is the most drawn out, derisive sigh before, “If you’ve spent enough time with your significant other that his god awful sense of humor has already rubbed off on you, I would suggest that the two of you come up for some damn air.” Peter cackles wildly, nearly falling from his perch once or twice in his mirth. 

Once the cackles calm down to giggles Strange says, “I’m glad to hear that you’re feeling better, really. And I’m doing fine, but I wasn’t really hurt in the first place.” The cranky persona is dropped and it’s the Strange that Peter has come to enjoy on the other end of the line now.

Peter is grinning as he asks, “So did you read over the card?” 

“Yes, but it doesn’t really explain much.” 

Peter is practically vibrating with nerves as he explains, “It’s basically just a coupon. All it really is, is a promise from me to help you get Tony to do something for you with only minimal amounts of fuss. As minimal as I can get him to fuss, at least.” He winds his free arm around his knees as he tucks them under his chin, trying to get a hold on himself. “It’s for saving me.” 

“Peter, you know I -” 

“Yeah, I know.” Peter says, cutting him off gently, “I just wanted to.” And because Peter knows Strange and he knows how the man is he adds, “Please?” The puppy-eyed tone and probably the fact that Strange, in turn, knows Peter is how Peter gets Strange to agree to using the coupon some time in the future. It settles something in Peter, makes him feel a little more like he’s caught up on things. 

_ Alright, Strange is done. So now _ , Peter thinks with a grin,  _ on to Karen _ .

***

Peter gets back from classes the next day a bit later than the day before, putting away the groceries he bought, then getting his homework done. After that, he heads down to the lab. Peter goes to a shelf in the back, rummaging around for the right box before finally finding it and plopping it down on a table toward the back of the lab. Setting up the mechanical arm attached to the board isn’t hard and setting up the pieces is basically second nature at this point. 

“Peter?” Karen asks, the excitement in her voice is barely there, but Peter knows her too well at this point not to hear it. 

“Yeah, Karen?” he replies with a grin at the nearest camera. 

“You do know that you will need to leave on patrol soon.” 

“Actually I got someone else to cover me.” 

The little arm across from Peter whirs to life, going through a diagnostic process before Karen responds, “Does that mean we can play for a while?” 

He smiles as he calls up a hologram or two, never able to sit and do one thing at a time for too long. Karen opens by moving a pawn and Peter counters by moving one of his knights. They continue like that for a while. Playing chess while Peter works on the schematics and notes for a couple of his projects. 

It’s nice and quiet and for a couple of games, they don’t talk beyond saying ‘good one’ or ‘nice match’. It’s in the middle of one of their matches, as Peter is cleaning up some of his notes on a schematic for a mechanical arm, that Karen pipes up, “I know what you’re doing, Mr. Parker.” 

Peter smiles a little at that as he places his queen back on the board. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ms. Karen.” he replies, too sweet, too innocent, and fully aware of both. 

Karen’s scoff is mixed with just a hint of staticy laughter but she drops it easily enough. 

See, Karen loved to play chess with Peter, it was ideal to her programming. 

Tony had programmed her to teach Peter and help him with super-hero-ing but, above all, he had programmed her to keep Peter safe, much to Peter’s initial annoyance. But it was something he had come to love about Karen, it made him feel like someone cared and like he had a built-in partner to have his back. It took a while (and getting locked in the lab for a couple days due to a malfunction and a cyber attack) to figure out that Karen liked chess. Though, once he had, they’d play every once in a while. 

The reason Karen liked it so much was because it hit all the right points. She was teaching him strategic thinking, testing and playing all at once, all while also keeping him safe sitting in the lab, one of the safest places in the Tower when no one was doing any hard core experiments in it. 

They spent the rest of the evening playing chess while Peter completed and virtually tested his design on the mechanical arm that he was working on for Bucky. It just needed a tweak or two and it was ready to go. Peter saved the designs as he lost the last game. 

“I think it’s about time for dinner.” Karen observed as she started to put away the pieces into the box. 

Peter smiles, content and happy, “Whatever you say, Karen” 

He probably deserved the pawn to the chest for the teasing, honestly.

***

After dinner, Peter puts the arm’s schematics into the 3-D printing system and puts it going with Friday watching over it in the lab. 

He then heads up to his apartment, pulling out everything he was going to need before he starts chopping and cooking Tony’s famous spaghetti. As if summoned by the recipe itself, his phone starts to ring. 

Pulling on some headphones, so he can keep cooking, he answers, “Hey, Tony.” 

“Hello, sweetheart.” Peter is blushing, he’s well aware of this, but he’s also grinning like mad and happy as hell so he can’t say he can complain all that much. 

“What have you been doing? Please distract me from my boredom, I swear, it’s like talking to cardboard cutouts sometimes.” 

Peter snorts at Tony’s dramatics but tells him about his classes all the same. “I’m, uh, I’m also printing a thing. In the lab. Right now. Is that ok?” 

“Peter - ” 

“I swear it’s super necessary and really important!” 

“Sweetheart, I - ” 

“Plus it’s even, like, Avengers related! Ish. But it’s - !” 

“Baby, it’s fine! You can make whatever you want to, you know that!” Tony half shouts half laughs, trying to get Peter to listen but also entirely amused by Peter’s nervous babbling. 

Peter, on the other hand, “You called me baby.” 

It’s half breathed out but apparently isn’t very clear about how Peter feels about the pet name. 

“Is that ok? To call you that?” Tony asks, nerves leaking through as Peter shakes himself from his frozen position in the middle of the kitchen. 

“Yeah, I - y-yeah that’s, great. Uh-huh, yep, good good good.” 

Tony chuckles, while Peter pulls a face at his own babbling, mixing the sauce a little more violently than is strictly necessary. 

The spoon bangs the pot a little, which Tony must hear because he asks, “What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?” 

“Oh, ah,” Peter says, reducing his stirring to more normal speeds, “I’m making your spaghetti actually. I kinda took the night off.” 

“You never just take the night off.” Tony states, a little suspicion slipping into his tone, “Are you ok? Did you get hurt  _ again _ ?” 

“No! No. I’m fine, really, I just had some stuff I wanted to do for a few people.” 

“Oh, so you’re doing that thing where you feel the need to make it up to everyone even though none of what happened was your fault.” 

Peter sighs, the line crackling before he mutters, “At least Karen appreciates me.” Tony just laughs and Peter smirks a bit to himself as he dumps the salt into the boiling water. 

Tony takes the hint (for once) and drops the subject in favor of talking about updates to the Iron Man suit that he wanted to make when he got back. The conversation meanders from there with a decent amount of flirting that has Peter blushing but confident in his assumption that Tony must be too. 

And Peter really thinks he might get away with vague explanations until, “Alright, so have you had enough time to calm down that you’ll tell me what all you’ve been up to for everyone?” Peter sighs heavily, briefly putting the half emptied sauce pan down to stare at the two tupperware bowls he’s putting the spaghetti in. 

“I just,” he starts, cutting himself off to pick the pan up and keep fixing the two bowls, “I needed to thank some people and set some stuff straight.” 

“You’re like the least straight person I know, are you sure you’re qualified?” 

He snorts so hard that he nearly lands the saucepan in one of the bowls. 

“O-ok, ha! Now that was actually a good joke. Wow, ok, I’m actually amazed right now?” 

Tony laughs at Peter’s reaction while Peter just laughs because  _ wow _ this could be his life now, talking with Tony at all hours and making jokes and not having to hide the warmth in his chest and the fond tone that had threatened to strangle him on occasion. 

“Peter? Still there?” 

Peter blinks back, smiling, a little love-sick around the edges, “Yeah?” 

There’s a small scoff from the other end then Tony, sounding on par with Peter’s overly-fond tone, “I miss you.” 

Peter’s cheeks hurt from the amount of smiling he’s been doing when he answers, “Miss you too.” 

Tony has to get off the phone so they hang up a little later as Peter is saving the food in the fridge for the next day. Getting ready for bed and doing one last check of the lab, he tries to plot the coming day, ignoring the nagging thought of why it’s so hard to talk to Tony about his plans.

*************************

Peter gets through his classes easily enough, managing to only fall asleep once in thermodynamics. 

After it’s over he drops by MJ’s dorm, texting her on his way and getting a mildly annoyed response.  _ She didn’t just flick me off and tell me not to come, she must miss me _ , he thinks as he makes his way across campus. Once he’s at her door he knocks lightly and waits for a moment or two before. 

“What do you want, Parker.” He grins at her and holds out the cooler bag to her. 

MJ narrows her eyes, taking the bag, and asking, with exactly zero confidence in Peter, “What did you do?” 

He rolls his eyes, fidgets a little, and replies, “I forgot a few things, remember?” Her eyes narrow a little more as she nods again and begins to dig through the bag. “Well this is my ‘I’m sorry’. About that. And a thank you for not freaking out about it.” She’s got the bowl in her hand as she looks up at him with a slight smile on her face. 

“You didn’t have to - ” 

“I know.” he says with a nervous flap of his hand and a grin. She never could say no to italian. “The other one is for Gwen, or they can both be for you, I just thought you might - ” 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” she says, cutting him off as she packs everything together again. “So what are you doing for Ned?” 

“Oh I already texted him. He can kidnap me to build a Lego set of his choice any day he wants. He’s ecstatic, but, I am too, so, ha.” 

They stand there for a moment, Peter fidgeting nervously as MJ tries to stare into his soul, but then, “So how’s Tony?” Peter feels himself go red at the same rate that the evil grin spreads on MJ’s face. “Tell him I say hi.” she practically purrs before she shuts the door in his face. 

_ Ok,  _ Peter thinks to himself _ , she didn’t miss me, she just likes to harass me.  _

_ Noted. _

***

He gets back to the Tower that afternoon and quickly assembles the 3-D printed arm, testing it thoroughly, then packing it into a case. He gets back to his apartment with it and, since Buck is out but should be back for dinner, he busies himself with homework for a bit. 

Once it’s getting late enough that he should really get out on patrol he decides to tell Karen just before he heads out, “Let Bucky know that if he has the time, I’d like to talk to him after I get back from patrol?” 

“I’ll let him know.” comes her reply. 

So he heads to the roof, like always and launches himself into the night. It doesn’t take him long to find trouble. It’s several hours, several fights, and a couple of knife wounds later that he gets back to his apartment, almost immediately flopping to the floor when he gets in. 

“Well, you look like shit.” Peter just rolls his head to the side, not entirely surprised to find Bucky on his couch, lounging there like he lives there. 

“Had worse.” Peter says, eyes half closed. 

If it’s from the blood loss or just general tiredness, well, who’s to say? 

Bucky sighs and levers himself up off the couch to somewhere that Peter can’t see and can’t say he cares enough to figure out. Buck is on his list to let in no matter what, if the enhanced spy assassin was going to do something behind his back he would’ve already done it. 

Peter must mentally check out for a bit because the next thing he knows there’s a bag being dropped in front of his face. He startles pretty hard, his mind trying to launch himself to the ceiling while his body only manages to sit up and cause itself more damage. 

He groans a bit but stays sitting up as Bucky chuckles at him, pawing Peters hands away from the darker patches of his suit, only to find, “You already sewed yourself up?” 

Peter snorts a little and replies, “Nah, Deadpool did.” Bucky rolls his eyes and sets about rechecking everything that Deadpool had done, which makes Peter smile. Sure, he’s a bit annoyed that no one trusts his friend, but it’s also quite nice that so many people care so much about him. 

Plus, you know, loopy from the blood loss. 

The sparkly spots in his vision were decreasing so there was that at least. 

“Huh.” Bucky lets out, getting Peter’s smile to grow just a little smug. 

“Good stitching, right?” The little huff Bucky makes just has Peter’s smile growing smugger. “You came cuz Karen said I was looking for you right?” Peter asks, changing the subject. Bucky nods as he gets to his feet to go to the kitchen. 

He grabs a couple glasses filling them with water as he replies, “Yeah, she let me know when I got back, but you were out. So I just figured I’d wait here.” Peter nods, smiling a little in thanks for the glass of water that’s handed to him. 

“Cool, I just wanted to give you something.” 

“Peter, I swear, if this is cuz of the stuff - ” 

“No, I’d been working on this for you for a while. I just….hurried up on it. But it’s all tested! There was not time skimped on th -!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, kid.” Bucky answers as he picks up the heavy coffee table/work desk and places it behind Peter, for him to lean against. Peter collapses against it gratefully with a smile and points to the case that’s near his door. 

“Grab that for me?” he asks and Bucky rolls his eyes playfully but goes and gets it for him without a fuss. He holds it out to Peter but Peter waves it off saying, “It’s yours, open it.” Bucky grumbles something, either about not needing anything (a lie, he needs what’s in the case, and Peter’s not the only one that’s convinced of that) or not being anyone’s errand boy (another lie, he mothers anyone and everyone that gets injured and lives in the Tower). Bucky sits on the couch with the case and Peter sits facing it with his glass of water, limpish limbs, and woozy head. He checks out, a little, again, not really resurfacing until he finds the absence of noise unsettling. Peter blinks back in, focusing on Bucky, sat frozen on his couch, with the new arm in his hand. 

He gives Bucky another moment or two until, “What do you think?” 

Bucky blinks a couple of times, slowly coming back online, it would seem, before he looks over at Peter. “Who told you?” Peter snorts as his head lolls back, rolling onto the coffee table. 

“I  _ asked _ Clint about it and Steve walked in as he escaped into the vents.” Peter feels his face scrunch as he adds, “Not sure why that was his solution, honestly, but Clint never explains himself.” Bucky makes a soft noise and Peter pulls his head up to look at the man again. He’s weighing the new arm in his flesh hand against the weight of his current robotic arm, rotating his shoulder around and swinging it a bit. 

It makes Peter smile. 

“I did some research.” Peter starts, watching the new arm flop a little and calculating the angle of the wrist in his head a bit absently. “And Friday helped me approximate the weight of your other arm. After I got Steve and Clint to talk to me, they said you’d want it to be robotic but I can make it a - ” 

“No. This is good.” 

Peter smiles and nods, eyes slipping closed a little as he mutters, “Knew they’d know.” 

There’s clicking, ticking, the sound of things syncing up, before, “This is….weird.” 

Peter can’t help it, he starts laughing. 

It hurts, there might be more bleeding, but it’s just too  _ flat _ and  _ funny _ not to laugh at! Peter almost feels Bucky roll his eyes as the man gets up and walks over to Peter. He picks Peter up as the boy’s giggles slow but don’t die. 

He gets him to the bathroom without getting Peter's blood everywhere (as Peter would've surely done) and asks, "Do you need help with - ?" 

But Peter knows where this is going, flapping a hand and shaking his head he cuts him off with, "No, Lovelace, no, you are not helping me bath." 

“Are you sure you’re not - ” 

“Nooooooooo, no no no. I’m bathing myself, I’ve been worse off and still - ” Bucky makes a noise that seems to be a cross between a groan and a growl. This just gets Peter giggling all over again. 

“Alright, ya goofball.” Bucky says as he sits Peter down on the counter, leaning him gently against the mirror behind him. Peter gins, only slightly loopy looking. “Promise I won’t find you dead in the morning?” Bucky asks with a raised eyebrow as he gathers a couple towels, dropping them next to the tub. 

“Promise promise.” Peter replies, almost automatic, smiling and nodding with ease. Bucky does a few more mother-hen type things and Peter checks over the new arm for the millionth time. 

“And you sure this isn’t too heavy? Or too light? Because then you’ll just over correct but on the other - actually why am I asking you. You’d never say shit. Karen, run a scan of - ” 

“Peter, I swear, if you don’t stop asking questions I will just not wear this arm out of spite.” Peter rolls his eyes but lets the man go. 

Bucky ruffles his hair on the way out before leaving the bathroom and, likely, the apartment completely. 

For a moment, Peter just sits there on the counter. 

A little asleep and a little aware that he really should have a bath, which was really ruining the kind of asleep part. With a deep sigh, he slips off the counter, groaning as his legs take his weight completely. There’s some sort of ringing as he strips off his suit and he realizes it's his phone as it clatters to the floor within his suit. “Karen,” he whines as he starts the water filling up the bathtub, “please tell me who the hell that is?” 

Karen sounds almost amused as she answers, “It’s Mr. Stark, should I tell him you’re busy?” 

“Please?” he asks, as he sinks into the tub. There’s some sort of affirmative beep before the quiet rushes back in. He just sits there for a while, letting the warmth sink into him and hoping like hell he’ll heal up quickly.  _ Fuck _ , Peter thinks, sinking a little further into the warmth,  _ if Tony sees these, he’s gonna hate it _ . He floats a little more, then smiles to himself. 

_ I can call him Tony now _ , floats through his head happily. 

Eventually he’s too tired to feel safe laying in a large tub of water that he could drown in, so he actually scrubs the blood off and gets himself clean. After getting most of the water off of him he wanders into his room and rumages until he finds underwear. 

He’s just managed to pull them on when, “ _ Peter, what the hell _ ?!” 

Peter does not shriek. Of course he doesn’t, he’s super manly like that. 

He does, however, end up on the wall. It’s not the worst pain he’s ever been in (or even the worst pain of today) but he’s not exactly happy about it. After a lot of groaning and griping and general confusion on both sides, Peter ends up flopped in bed with his phone held out, watching Tony scanning him as much as possible via a phone screen. 

“Are you ok? Karen gave me your vitals and - ” 

Peter winces a bit before cutting in, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to worry you.” 

“No, that’s not - ” it’s Tony’s turn to cut himself off, sighing deeply and collapsing onto something. Probably a bed, based on the pillow in the corner. 

“I just got scared.” Tony says. 

And it sounds so small that all Peter wants is to ‘borrow’ one of the jets, find Tony, and hug him. Somehow the cut that hasn’t healed on Tony’s head makes it all the more intense. 

“I’m going to be fine, Tony.” he tries for a smile but it might not pass as he adds in, “If you don’t believe me, Deadpool stitched me up and Bucky checked the stitches and carried me to the bathroom and I’m sure Tasha will come in tomorrow morning to check that I’m not dead.” Tony smiles back, it’s sad and tired but happier than he was just a few moments ago. Peter’s strained smile relaxes a little. 

Peter asks Tony about his trip and how the meetings are going and Tony takes the casual redirection easily enough, complaining mostly, but he’d found a couple of people that really seemed to have brilliant ideas. Tony went on for a while about one in particular, a manipulation of particles on the subatomic level that was allowing for hyper realistic textures. Combined with some of the hologram technology that Stark Industries already had, it could really become something like the holo-decks on Star Trek. It was fascinating and engaging and brilliant and definitely something he would love to work on with Tony. 

He was also half asleep and hanging onto consciousness by a thread. 

“....and then we decided we were all going to go to church together to celebrate the break through!” 

Peter grimaces as he curls a little tighter on his side and into his blankets, replying grumpily and blearily, “ ’m not tha’ outta it.” 

“Sweetheart,” Tony says, dopey smile seeping into his voice, “your eyes are closed.” 

There’s a furrow in Peter’s brow before he figures out how to get his eyes open, slit against the light that’s still on and glow from the phone screen. Tony’s smile, crinkled in the corners and soft through and through, makes Peter’s face soften a little. 

“S’rry.” he mutters, a little sheepish and a bit slurred. 

“You’re a stupid amount of cute, baby, but I’m pretty sure I should let you sleep.” Tony murmurs, slightly reluctant but still pretty happy. Peter wasn’t sure why he was so pleased with being called ‘baby’ instead of ‘kid’ but he was and not exactly up for examining it. 

He makes a soft noise as he tries to respond but loses the will about half way through the thought. 

“Gonna make you tell me about the arm you made.” 

Peter manages a snort and mumbles out, “He lik’d it.” 

“Of course he did, you made it.” Tony says, easy as breathing. It makes Peter squeak, garbling out something nonsensical while he buries his face in his pillow. 

Peter doesn’t remember much of what happened after that. But he’s pretty sure he got Tony to stay on the phone with him until he fell asleep (all of two seconds later). 

It made him warm all over as he thought about it, staring at his phone, dead in the bed with him the next morning as Karen calmly announces that he needs to leave in five minutes or he’ll be late for class.

***

Getting back into his apartment from school is a much less rushed affair. 

He even manages to collapse face first into his couch for a solid five minutes before Tasha barges in. His skin makes a solid attempt to extricate itself from his bones via his spidey-sense, but, lucky for his internal organs, it doesn’t quite manage it. 

“You got patched up by Deadpool.” she states as Peter sits on his couch, rumpled and confused. 

She pats him down and Peter lets her because a) his injuries are healed, 2) he doesn’t have much of a choice, and 3/c) he doesn’t much mind it in the first place. Once she’s poked and prodded to her heart’s content, she settles on the couch next to him with a look that would make grown men quake. 

Peter, at this point, is too tired for quaking, so he just collapses back down with a dull thud. 

“Bucky has a new arm.” Peter huffs noncommittally, earning him a jab to his side along with a half-gowled, “A proportionally weighted arm.” 

He grins, his eyes still closed against the fluorescent on the ceiling, and asks, “You want one, too?” This earns him a huff which gets him curling onto his side enough to look at Tasha, her legs crossed, one over the other, posture stiff and face held emotionless. He smiles a little at this and adds, “I know I didn’t have to. Wanted to. And I was working on it before the whole thing, so I just had to finish a few things and tested it.” 

This doesn’t seem to make Tasha happy. Though, to be fair, she doesn’t seem any more annoyed either so Peter is going to count it as a win. 

“So, I’m supposed to have dinner with May tonight.” he says, changing the subject entirely, randomly, and in no way smoothly. This makes Tasha’s eyebrows move together by barely a millimeter, though she does seem to relax slightly. 

“Yes, she’s excited to see you.” 

This has Peter laughing nervously and sitting up, leaning heavily on the back of the couch as he responds, “Yeeeeah, I, uh. I was thinking of postponing it?” 

Now Peter is quaking. 

_ So much for being too tired for quaking _ . 

“I know! She’s going to be disappointed. But! I thought that, well, maybe, you…could go to dinner with her….instead?” Tasha seems to have been put on pause. This gets Peter smiling again because it is so  _ rare _ that he gets to catch Tasha off guard. “Great!” he practically chirps, popping up off the couch. He’s half across the apartment before he hears even the slightest indication of a response so he starts babbling, “I think you guys are going to have a great time! You could meet her at her apartment at, like, 6ish and we were going to get take-out so you don’t have to worry too much about what to wear!” He spins easily in the elevator as Tasha stands in his living room. It’s probably one of the only times he’s ever seen her even the slightest bit  _ nervous _ . 

This is the woman that  _ calms down the Hulk _ , with  _ ease _ . 

Peter can’t help the smile that slips onto his face as he says, “Love you, Tasha.” just before the doors shut. 

He gets the barest hint of a shocked, small, smile on her face before they shut and it leaves him stunned but happy. 

“Hey, Karen?” 

“Yes, Peter?” 

“Could you get me to Clint? I need to freak out at someone and he’ll know if Tasha is going to kill me. 

Probably.” 

***

Peter spent the rest of his day working on other projects before figuring something out, promptly dropping all of his other projects, and strolling into the kitchen like he wasn’t burying all of his emotions as deep as they’d go. 

He heads for the coffee maker, out of habit more than a need for caffeine. He’s busying himself with the motions of making coffee as his he tries desperately (and fails completely) to not think about the fact that Tony had just went and  _ fucking texted him _ \- 

“Hey, Pete!” 

He manages to stay on the floor but the handle on the mug he had grabbed suffers the consequences for it. 

After his moment of terror he sighs and heads for the trash can with both hands on the mug. Peter opens it with the foot pedal as Cap makes a questioning noise behind him before he lets the cup fall from his hand then brushes the bits of the handle out of his other hand. 

“Crap, I, I’m sorry. Let me, -” Cap stutters out before he’s vanished behind a counter, rummaging through the cabinets. 

“It’s fine, Cap, I don’t -” 

“Found it!” he exclaims, muffled from the cabinet walls he’s only half way backed out of. It’s no time at all before he’s plopping a plastic first aid kit case onto the counter next to Peter, gently taking Peter’s hand to inspect it. 

There’s a very small amount of blood, but the cuts are shallow and once the shards are removed, they’ll likely be healed in all of ten minutes. Peter knows Cap knows this, but it doesn’t stop the man from taking out the tweezers, dwarfed in his large hands, and carefully, gently, removing every little piece, rubbing on some ointment, and wrapping half his palm in gauze. Peter watches Cap discretely as he does it, the fact that he looks like he’s dismantling a bomb instead of wrapping a very minor wound being the number one thing that he notices over all. 

“You know I’m going to live, right?” Peter says, mostly joking, but with an edge of reassurance for the man’s somewhat obvious distress. Cap’s eyes dart to Peter’s, filled with confusion as he settles the final piece of tape on the bandaging. 

The confusion clears after a moment, the man going a little still before he sighs, air rushing out all at once before, “Sorry, Buck’s always been better with injuries.” Cap tries for a smile and comes up with a half grimace that Peter can’t help smile a little helplessly at. 

“The way he tells it, he had a lot more practice with it than you did.” 

That pulls a real smile out of the Captain, making Peter perk up. 

“So tonight’s movie night, right?” Peter asks with a smile as he turns to shuffle through the cabinets, “It’s probably about to start, so I can help with the popcorn if you want.” Peter is placing the box of popcorn on the counter before he realizes the silence is stretching too long for Cap. Bucky or Dr. Banner, sure, but not Cap. He turns to find the man staring at him, confusion scrunching his brow once more. 

_ I thought he liked movie nights, they were his idea! What if he doesn't actually like movies?! That would be something _ \- 

“But Tony isn’t coming tonight, he’s out of town.” That gets a round of confused blinks from Peter. 

“I….know?” 

Cap keeps the scrunched look as he replies, “You hardly ever come without Tony. And everyone else bailed, so it would just be us.” 

True, Peter was expecting perhaps one or two other people, namely Bucky and Clint. But Tony was out of town, Peter had sent Tasha to hang out with May, Pepper was a rare attendee (though very welcome, every time), and Dr. Banner was busy with a breakthrough of some kind, last Peter had seen him. 

But then it clicks over in his head. 

Cap had said,  _ Look, Peter, I know we’re not on great terms but if you’re having a hard time please talk to someone? _

Peter’s face must betray the puzzle pieces falling into place because Cap rushes in with, “It’s ok, really! I can understand why we aren’t really that close and I get why - ” 

“I don’t hate you.” 

It comes out rushed and a bit startled, like Cap had scared it out of him. Cap is, of course, confused, because not everyone follows the same logic of blame-themselves-for-literally-everything, like Peter does. Cap is a close second though. He seems to register the thought as well as the thought process, it finally clicks in his head and he starts, “Peter, you don’t have to….defend yourself or Tony, even, we just - ” 

“I know you think I don’t like you.” Cap is stunned completely and Peter is actually kind of proud of himself for getting one over on Cap. “Look, was it a shitty thing you guys did? Yes, it was. A lot of it.” Peter states, as he leans onto the counter, crossing his arms for a little self-reassurance. They had to talk about it or nothing was ever going to change. 

If Germany had taught him anything it had taught him  _ that _ . 

“But, all you guys talked it out.” he continues as he looks Cap, head on, “And I wasn’t really part of the talks because I had to be normal and go to school and patrol and generally be a weird teenager.” That has them both smiling. “After that, well, you know I didn’t really get close to Tony for a while. In fact we did our fair amount of fighting like dumb kids, too. Once I started hanging out with you guys, I just assumed it was because of Tony, at first. I didn’t think anyone really wanted to hang out with me, figured you all just put up with me because Tony would bring me around. Eventually Tasha sorta adopted me and me and Dr. Banner worked on several projects together and Bucky and Clint decided I was good enough at video games and Shuri decided I was smart enough to keep up. We, just,.... um, - ” 

“Never really found our thing.” Steve finishes for him. 

Peter grins his thanks and nods a bit as he continues, “Yeah, exactly. But that doesn’t mean I hate you Cap. Just means we haven’t done a lot of hanging out.” Picking up the box, he shakes the popcorn a little and says with a giggle to his voice, “And what better way to bond than Team Bonding Movie Night, huh?” Cap rolls his eyes and sighs, but he’s fighting a bigger smile than what’s already slipped onto his face and looks far more relaxed than at the start of the conversation. 

“Yeah, alright.” he agrees amicably, as he gets up and starts rummaging for a bowl. Peter happily starts making the popcorn with small, dumb smile on his face. 

As it turns out, Captain America is pretty fun to hang out with one-on-one and Peter kicks himself internally for not doing it sooner. Cap prefers Steve and Peter counters that he far prefers Queens because it makes him sound badass. It gets a snort and some popcorn thrown in his direction but it’s worth it. They watch the movie but it soon becomes background noise to a conversation that becomes a strange mixture of getting to know each other better and gossiping about literally  _ everyone _ . 

Turns out Cap - Steve - loves to gossip about his friends, who knew? 

Peter is cackling over a story about a hopeless Bucky and an oblivious Clint when Steve’s eyes turn to him and glint in a way that has Peter momentarily wondering if he should be regretting his life choices. 

“So, and you can tell me to butt out if you want, but….you and Tony?” 

_ Yes _ , Peter thinks to himself as he tries not to choke on his own lungs,  _ if you think you should be regretting your life choices the answer is  _ **_always_ ** _ yes _ . 

“I, uh, w-what about Tony?” Steve chuckles at his, admittedly, terrible subversion. But Peter thinks for a beat before adding, “Well, speaking of Tony, and I know it’s your job. Well, all our jobs, like, collectively for each other and everything - ” 

“Just say it, Peter.” Steve cuts in gently with a small smile at Peter’s verbal stumbling. 

He takes a breath holding it for a moment before, “Thank you. For saving Tony. I know it’s your thing, and, like, our job in general. But still.” He looks Steve in the eye, finishing, heart-felt, “Thank you,” 

Steve’s face goes through a series of complicated and serious emotions before it settles on tired contentment before he responds, “Well, thank you for making Buck a new arm. He’d sworn me to secrecy and Clint was adamant about not butting in unless it was absolutely necessary. He was trying to get Bucky to speak up for himself but….” He smiles, full of happy contentment and finishes, “This was good. Shows him other people care.” He chuckles, if wetly, to himself as he levers himself from the couch and stretches in the glow of the tv in the dark room. 

“Alright,” he groans out as his arms fall back to his sides and Peter peers up at him with mild confusion, “I’m not going to press you about Tony because I need to go to bed, but!” Steve turns to Peter with a mischievous grin and adds, “You’ll have to give me some details at some point.” 

Peter blushes as Steve chuckles and ruffles his hair on the way out of the room and Peter feels his emotions and thoughts well up for one, intense moment before, “Hey, Steve?” The man pauses, turning back to Peter with a raised eyebrow. “I, uh.” he sighs a little, shaking himself, then, “I had a good time. We should hang out, Again. Sometime.” 

Steve smiles. 

It’s not the wide, intense Captain America press smile that Peter’s used to seeing splashed over newspapers and magazines. It’s the smile he’s come to associate with mornings in the kitchen in the Tower and Bucky begging for a rematch and Clint telling dumb jokes after a mission. 

“Yeah, Queens. We should.”

***

Peter is neck deep in his plants, tending them and muttering stats off to Karen when, “You’re gorgeous when you’re focused.” 

“Nothing compared to you elbow deep in an engine block.” Peter mutters back, without much thought toward what he said. 

Or who had spoken in the first place. 

It takes a bit, but eventually the whole conversation registers and Peter’s head whips up and around to find Tony leaning in the doorway of his lab with a smirk on his face that makes Peter’s insides squirm. 

He blinks, says, a little faintly, “You’re back.” 

Tony’s sharp smirk turns into a softer, small smile and he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m back.” 

It takes a moment or two more for it all to really click over in Peter’s brain before he’s running and tackling Tony and grinning like a mad man. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back so soon! You said a week!” 

Tony smooths a large palm down Peter’s back as he pulls back and replies, impishly, “Oh, well, I can always leave and - ” 

“No!” Peter says, a little on the shriek side, and tightens his hold on the other man. It knocks a chuckle out of Tony as he squeezes back, continuing to run his hand up and down Peter’s spine as he tucks his chin over Peter’s shoulder. 

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.” 

Peter is still inordinately happy to be called ‘baby’ instead of ‘kid’. 

Eventually they’ve hugged enough that Peter can be convinced to finish up his projects, get cleaned up, and meet Tony on the couch. Once Peter has showered the smell of fertilizer and greenery off of himself he wanders into his living room to find Tony with a tablet, staring at the black screen like it might have all the answers in the universe. 

He collapses, intentionally rough, onto the couch opposite the older man, which startles him into a sheepish, nervous, stressed-out grin. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asks, brow furrowing, body immediately tensing. He knows where his suit is, all the diagnostics had been run after his last patrol, it was good to go, it would take him about thirty seconds to - 

“We need to talk.” Tony says, serious and anxious and trying to look anything but.

Ah. 

Right. 

Tony had wanted to talk, Peter had kind of forgotten about that. 

“Oh, ok.” Peter says relaxing into the couch a bit with a chuckle. Tony smiles faintly at him, probably realizing where Peter’s mind had gone, but still stressed about the whole prospect of having the conversation to begin with. 

“So,” Tony starts, sounding faintly pained but soldiering on, “there are lots of reasons why we shouldn’t probably date each other. I’m much older than you, people are going to be very against that. And I’m rich where as you’re not and people will say that means I have power over you. And I’m your boss, technically speaking which is also part of the power-over-you-thing. Also I’m - would you quit that, I'm trying to remember all the reasons I came up with!” 

Peter is laughing, it had started with Tony’s first mention of power and had well and truly devolved from there. He couldn’t help it really, he just couldn’t imagine Tony trying to use his power over  _ anyone _ , much less someone he was in a relationship with. 

“You,  _ ha _ , re-ealize how ….  _ crazy _ that sounds, r- _ hehe _ -ight?” 

Tony is pouting at Peter and Peter thinks it’s probably one of the most adorable things he’s ever seen. 

“Besides,  _ my love _ ,” Peter adds, emphasizing the words from the text messages he had decoded from the night he’d been kidnapped. The ones that had flustered him so thoroughly that he’d crushed a mug in front of Captain America,  _ christ _ , “I don’t care what other people are saying. I care about what  _ you _ think, what  _ your _ opinions are. Do you want to date me?” 

Tony’s mouth is agape. Tony is the definition of the swirly loading circle on a computer screen and Peter, patiently, happily, sits and watches and waits for a reply. Tony stutters over some semblance of a sentence when he regains the ability to speak. 

Eventually though, he sorts himself out enough that, “ _ Do I want to date you _ ?! I’ve already practically told you I loved you! Saying no would be a bit stupid at this point wouldn’t it?!” 

Peter grins at that, wicked and sharp and  _ wanting _ . He’s got his leg thrown over Tony’s lap, straddling him, before the other man has time to blink and he’s taking the older man's face into his hands with a level of gentle reverence that’s usually reserved for his plants. 

“Yeah? You love me?” 

Tony might officially be speechless and Peter decides to take that as a high honor, even as he feels his face go a little softer (and a lot needier) when he adds on, “I love you too. By the way. Sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” 

That seems to light something in Tony’s eyes and, before he really knows it, he’s kissing Tony and being bulled over to his back on the couch and kissed within an inch of his  _ life _ . Tony’s fingers are threaded through his hair and his body is pressing Peter flat into the couch cushions. 

“ _ F-fuck _ .” he stutters, full of feeling. 

Tony’s rolling his hips and Peter’s arching into the sheer  _ intensity _ when, “ _ I do _ . I really fucking do.” 

Peter smiles at Tony’s reply. Kissing him might be like flying, but hearing that? 

That’s the beginning of something beautiful. 

_ Nearly on par with how gorgeous Tony is _ . 

  
**_Almost_ ** .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I, in effect, split the epilogue into two chapters but it was so long I figured it was a good idea 😅 Next week will be the end, I swear. It's also already written and edited, as of tonight (!!!) 
> 
> (I'm not having a crisis you are!!! 🤣)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late. I've been having bad mental days lately. Last night I was trying to make it a point to relax and focus on some energy stuff as that sometimes really helps me ground myself and it was the full moon and Samhain. On the plus side I have pie now 😅

The making out winds up higher and higher and  _ higher _ , before it all winds down again, gasping and gleaming with a sheen of sweat and chuckling into the comfortable quiet. After what feels like a long and short amount of time of stolen kisses and gentle touches to delicate skin they decide that they’ll never manage talking if left to their own devices. 

So, to Peter’s delight and Tony’s feigned annoyance, they decide they should go on a date. 

Tony tries to suggest some fancy restaurant that would require suits and ties, so, with a look of mild horror, Peter takes control of their plans for the evening. He tells Tony to wear a t-shirt 

(“Like,  _ outside _ ?!” 

“Yes, people wear them all the time, it’s fine.”) 

and some nice jeans 

(“Peter, I literally have suits or lab clothes. You  _ do not _ want me to be outside in lab clothes?!” 

“Tony just find something that’s not a suit or costs more than like 50 dollars ok?” 

“ _ Newton _ , what the  _ hell _ \- !”) 

and meet him in the common area when he’s done. 

Peter is beginning to get a little worried that Tony is lost (or having a break down in his closet) when the elevator opens up and - 

_ Fuck _ . 

He’s wearing jeans with no holes or grease stains, a long sleeve shirt under a band t-shirt, and sneakers that look like they’d seen better days, years ago. And Peter may actually start to drool if he doesn’t shut his mouth soon. Tony’s already noticed, though. 

“So this is what gets you to look at me?” Tony says, amusement ringing through his voice and smirk clear on his lips. Peter grins as he catches Tony’s hand and spins the man back around to the elevator, walking backwards into it himself. 

“Who said I wasn’t looking before?” Peter says, clearly giving the other man a thorough once over as he bites on his bottom lip. He’s inordinately proud of the blush that one look raises to Tony’s cheeks and inordinately happy he gets to kiss him silly right after the doors close. 

They end up on the ground floor soon enough, ever so slightly more disheveled but otherwise completely ready for their date. They decide to walk instead of drive and end up at a bit of a hole in the wall italian place not terribly far from the Tower. The only thing they manage to discuss on the way there is whether or not Peter is being coerced into thinking that dating Tony is a good idea. 

Honestly, the only reason it’s a comparably short conversation to what it could have been between two stubborn geniuses is because when Tony said, “Peter, you have to know this is a bad idea, agreeing to date me.” Peter had agreed. 

“Yeah, I know it’s not the best idea. Relationships are rarely the best idea. Or the easiest. But that doesn’t mean they’re not  _ worth _ it.” 

They had gone back and forth a bit about it, but Tony had conceded in the end. Once at the restaurant, Peter requested a table in the back and the restaurant had filled it easily enough. They were close to the kitchen door and it was certainly not the best table in the restaurant but it was out of the way so it suited Peter and Tony just fine. 

“So, you're completely set on dating me? And you’re not going to hate me in a couple months once I’ve pissed you off enough?” 

Peter levels Tony with a look, the older man shrinking a little into his seat and behind his menu. Ah, the pair they make. The waiter passes by, getting their drink orders before leaving them alone again. 

“Tony, do you really think I’m going to hate you if we date?” He sighs, a bit dramatically, letting the menu flop onto the table as he looks over at Peter. 

“I know, logically, that it probably won’t all end in flames. Or at least not huge ones, maybe.” he says as a hand goes up to drag through his hair. It’s a familiar habit, blocked by the hat Tony has on. Peter chuckles at the startled, accusatory look Tony gives the top of his own head before Tony turns his gaze to Peter, disgruntled expression turning soft. Peter’s grin goes a little soft too, leaving them looking at each other like love sick fools. 

Their server passes back with their drinks, breaking up the sickeningly sweet atmosphere. 

They scramble, a little, to figure out their orders, much to their server’s amusement. It doesn’t take long to get the food ordered and then their server is off again, leaving them alone once more. 

“It’s not gonna end in flames, Tony.” Peter says, trying for reassuring and landing somewhere closer to confusion. Tony raises an eyebrow and Peter takes a moment or two to reply but eventually lands on, “Well, I guess I just figured it’d be you ending it.” It’s blunt but honest and Peter doesn’t quite catch the words before they’re tumbling out of his mouth. He looks up to find Tony looking at him with a cross between confusion and hurt so he rushes to add, “ I didn’t mean - ! I - I just meant I figured you’d….get bored….of me.” He ducks his head, taking a sip of his drink as pretense to not meet Tony’s eyes. 

“Why?!” gets spluttered out from across the table and Peter looks up, self-deprecating and sure. 

“I’m younger than you. I figured you’d get tired of me worrying over dumb things at some point. Like passing classes or whether or not my friends hate me or, ya know, stuff like that. I mean, you run a giant company and do super-heroing and invent things and - ” 

“You invent things!? Super-heroing things!? How could I ever get tired of being  _ around _ you much less  _ dating _ you?!” Tony whisper-yells in reply. 

This, of course, startles the hell out of Peter and he’s left blushing and stuttering for longer than he’d like to admit. 

He’s still floundering when he feels a soft brush against his ankle. Peter manages to keep his over reaction to kneeing the table instead of flinging it across the room, eyes finding Tony’s automatically, sheepish and embarrassed. Tony smiles, happy but equally sheepish, as he hooks their ankles together. 

“Guess we’re both a little bad at this, huh, sweetheart.” Peter’s heart flutters at the words and the look on Tony’s face. He just can’t figure out how he got this lucky. 

_ Thank Science for amnesia spells and alien kidnapping _ .

Instead of speaking his mind, he smiles cheekily and says, “Want to know how bad I really am?” Tony scoffs and rolls his eyes. Peter takes this as a challenge, though, and starts telling Tony stories of his (few) past relationships and the whole host of failed first dates he’s been on. Tony laughs, but is occasionally just as confused as Peter’s was. 

“But museums are great. Why was she pissed?” 

“Tony, I’m the one that thought that was a good idea in the first place. Why are you asking me?!” 

This causes another round of laughter between bites of good food and blushing too hard to be truly healthy. They trade stories for a while more, finishing their food and debating desert before deciding on the chocolate disaster, branded particularly for this restaurant. 

Peter’s already two bites into the monstrosity before, “You know, I wouldn’t mind that. In case you were. Curious. Or something.” Peter looks positively dumbfounded, he’s sure of it, not sure what thread of the conversation that Tony’s seemed to have picked up. It’s not that he’s unused to Tony picking up and dropping and picking up again, pieces of conversation that Peter long since thought over. With Tony, he learned quickly that any conversation can be picked up or ignored at the drop of a hat. Especially when they got closer, especially when they were learning more about each other. But he’s a little lost by this particular statement. 

He’s got his head tilted slightly and a furrow in his brow but before he can voice the confusion Tony’s saying, “The museum date.” with all the fondness in the world packed into that small sentence. 

Peter blushes, just a little, as he nods with a grin, small but true, replying “Ok, I’ll keep that in mind.”

*********************************************

The walk back to the Tower is quieter and ten times as hard to make than the walk to the restaurant. 

It’s chalked full of tension that wasn’t there before, or, more accurately, had been ignored in favor of all the kinks that needed to be worked out (pun  _ fully _ intended). 

But now the problems had been solved to a degree sufficient enough to be ignored whole heartedly by the new couple. 

Peter glances heatedly at Tony as the older man smirks knowingly, staring straight at the numbers on the elevator in the Tower’s car park. The intensity in his eyes the only thing giving way that this suspense was killing him just as much as it was killing Peter. It would have been an even better cover, if Peter couldn’t hear Tony’s heart fluttering in the older man's chest. The elevator dings gently, the two getting into the elevator as the doors open. Settling against the opposite walls, eyes only for each other, the heat rising tangibly between them as the doors rolled to a close. 

The  _ moment _ the doors snick closed Peter is plaster against Tony’s chest, moving faster than should be possible for a human, pinning him in a breath and mouthing against his neck in the next. 

“Christ you taste like a  _ dream _ .” Peter moans out as Tony pants above him, squirming against the wall of the elevator. 

“ _ F _ - _ fuck _ .” Tony groans out before adding, “When’d -  _ gods _ \- did y-you get good at this?!” Peter smirks, dragging his teeth lightly along Tony’s pulse, drawing a shiver out of the older man.

“Remember those first dates I told you about?” Peter asks, as he runs his nose along Tony’s jaw before tilting his head so they’re eye to eye and their lips a breath away. 

“Yeah?” 

He kisses Tony quickly, sweetly and answers, “Half of them weren’t really interested in the, ah,  _ dating _ part. And since  _ you _ weren’t interested - ” 

Tony’s groan is one part frustrated that he can’t get Peter to kiss him properly and two parts annoyed he hadn’t started this thing between them  _ sooner _ . This gets Peter chuckling a little though both of them are interrupted by the ding of the elevator opening onto Tony’s floor. It distracts Peter long enough that Tony squirms his way out of Peter’s grip before slipping his arms around the younger man and - 

“ _ Tony! _ ” Peter yelps, completely surprised but not at all unhappy about finding himself swept up into Tony’s arms. He bridal carries Peter past the living room and only gets mildly distracted by Peter’s lips in the hall, before finally dropping him onto the bed. Peter bounces a little, giggling and enjoying the soft, heated look on Tony’s face as he lays there. 

“You just gonna stand there and watch me all night?” Peter asks, teasingly, as he drags a hand up his own chest, bunching the shirt and revealing a toned stomach and pale skin. Tony smirks as he crawls up the bed, caging Peter in with his arms and leaning in til their lips are just a breath apart. 

“Though that sounds like a  _ fantastic _ idea,” and Peter’s growing blush really has him convinced of that, “I don’t think I could resist, sweetheart.” 

It doesn’t take long for things to heat up. It’s all slick lips and moans as clothes are removed and tossed aside with an efficiency only goal oriented, scientific minds can produce. There is also giggles and snorts at knocking elbows and tangled limbs. Breathlessly whispered praise and helpless little whimpers. 

Once the clothes are off and it’s all skin to skin warmth, they slow down. 

Peter’s tracing things. Scars, the arc reactor, calluses, even the lines of muscles and different creases of joints. It’s like he’s trying to memorize all the different things, the dents and imperfections, that have knit themselves to make up Tony. That makes him,  _ him _ . Finally letting his fingers learn everything about the man that means so much to him. 

Tony, on the other hand, is learning Peter with his lips. He’s grazing them down Peter’s neck, brushing them over his collar bones, pressing them to the hollow of his throat, and pulling them back to bite at the pale shoulder that’s just  _ begging _ for a mark. 

They handle each other like the other might run, like the other might break, like the other might break  _ them _ . 

But neither does. 

Instead they make the other feel so  _ loved _ . 

They’re happy, overwhelmed tears mixed with surprised, little moans. Eventually, though, the pants and groans win out as the heat rises and they start moving in earnest. Peter flips them around until he’s on top, moving with a sinewy grace that Tony is coming to love. It’s not long til the smooth rhythm Peter had built is falling apart, though. 

Just like he is, just like Tony. 

They crest the waves of heat and ecstasy at nearly the same time and they collapse into each other as they come doing from flying apart at the seams a little. 

It’s minutes later, at least Peter’s pretty sure it is, when he lifts his head to look at Tony. The older man is already looking at him, all warm brown eyes and disheveled hair. 

_ Oops _ , Peter thinks with a lopsided smile and not an ounce of remorse as he reaches up to try and finger-comb it back into place a little. He doesn’t get far, Tony catching his hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss, then two. 

He doesn’t mean to. 

He knows it’s cliche and tacky and everyone tells you not to but - 

“I love you.” he says. His expression is probably a level of love sick that would get him teased by all of their friends and family but Tony doesn’t tease him. 

He looks back, just as fond and affectionate and replies, “I love you, too, sweetheart.” 

And as Peter grins back, sappy and pink-cheeked he thinks, 

_ Another thing to add to The List: Loved by Tony Stark. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....that's the end.
> 
> I'm not really sure how to feel about this because I don't think I've ever finished anything this long 😅 I want to thank all of you for commenting and sharing your thoughts on this story with me. Please know I really appreciate all of your opinions, good or bad, and that I really tried to wrap it up such that someone reading it would be satisfied with it by the end.
> 
> If any of you out there would like to talk about the story or even if you'd just like to make a friend my tumblr is http://weforgotthatwearethestars.tumblr.com/
> 
> I'd love to get to know any of you guys more 😁 Y'all are the best!
> 
> Well, until next time 💜 see y'all later!

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you think??? Please, let me know!


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